


How to Successfully Woo a Demon

by Fictitiousmalevolence, rextyle



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: D D & m D, F/M, Human/Demon swap, M/M, Mystery Duo Bill and Dipper, RP, Reverse roles, just traversing the woods for adventure and research, man just throwing up our RP as is, owlapinart's designs - Freeform, role play, so like demonford and humanbill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 120,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictitiousmalevolence/pseuds/Fictitiousmalevolence, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rextyle/pseuds/rextyle
Summary: “You do understand what that entails, don’t you, Bill?” The slithering of his shadows, the snaking of threads that wove his very being seemed to increase, festering in a kind of curious energy against the whole of the room. “I wonder if you’ve thought this through, the impact of it. Those who...make these sorts of arrangements are bound to them entirely. There will be no escape. No excuse. You and I would be...dare I say it, bound untilthe end of time.”A human Bill Cipher/demon Stanford Pines swap with an added Dipper & Bill bonding and broship.
Relationships: Bill Cipher & Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher/Ford Pines, Bill Cipher/Stanford Pines, Bill Cipher/The Author | Original Stanford Pines, Brotp Bill/Dipper, Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines, but like bffs/kinda mystery duo/mentor deal, one sided Dipper Pines/Wendy corduroy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. To the End of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Alright! Hey folks. So straight up this is all just an ongoing RP going on between me and [fictitiousmalevolence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictitiousmalevolence) that we decided to throw up here! Really just no editing done aside from grammar so basically I will just be tossing all of this up exactly as we write it...usually in the late AM. Where creativity and insomnia breed apparently.
> 
> Universe is based entirely off these comics by [owlapinart](https://owlapinart.tumblr.com/), the single difference being that Fiddleford is the owner of the shack and Mabel and Dipper's godfather, where as Stan is a twin brother demon to Ford.  
> [x] [comic 1](https://owlapinart.tumblr.com/post/132547808682/an-au-where-fords-always-been-a-demon-or-some-shit)  
> [x] [comic 2](https://owlapinart.tumblr.com/post/132636752257/followup-to-this)
> 
> My best guess is way in the future the rating'll change, so get ready for that. Also every chapter'll be a scene pretty much so we'll roll this scene by scene for a while. It is suuuuper long at this point thank god, so heck, buckle up and enjoy the ride.

It was the familiar, subtle shift of darkness, the pull from the ethereal realm, a tantalizing thirst that met to him, drawing at the seams of his existence. His realm, his abode was more of a metaphorical than actual, an endless stretch of countless books, a library of absolute knowledge, a visual representation of the endless eons across endless space across the vast of every reality that lay there inside him, spread out here where he remained, all to be seen. Always studious in seeking more, always studious in placing more tomes in this place. More books, more graphs, more knowledge. He had been at the spark of a fireplace, on an old chair reading through such a book as the call came to him. 

Stanford could choose to leave this place and answer or ignore any call he desired, any inkling, any itch that came to him from those who truly desired his presence and had the books and tomes needed to assist in bringing him out. As it stood very, very few did. He was known to have a slight temper and disregard for moral character that seemed more by his nature than anything malicious. It made him somewhat unpredictable for the mortal world to deal with at times.

Still, it was a thirst, a seeking of answers that drew to him, to his nature, that caused him to pull himself forward toward its source. When such an authentic desire was present, in and by his nature, he felt honor bound to answer. To share his wisdom. Or perhaps to learn more himself. Much of the time countless civilizations offered rare tomes of knowledge or scarce scientific resources in exchange for his help. Many worshiped him, combing the ends of the earth for something valuable, something ancient, something worthwhile. But those days had long passed. 

In this day and age, it was a rare thing, a lost thing, all of that. As it was, besides a few here and there across the generations, it seemed only Mason Pines and Bill Cipher were of much consequence to the time otherwise spent devouring any and all information he could get his weaving threads and shadowed hands on and the eons reading through old tomes or perhaps attempting to find other demons to play a whirl at his favorite game (D, D, and more D, naturally).

And even before he’d arrived, he knew immediately who had been the one to summon him. And felt a heavy sigh against his form as, even more than Dipper, the boy seemed keen on having him around for reasons that were...well beyond him. Even for such a demon with great knowledge it was lost on him.

“Bill Cipher…” A flash of a yellow triangle glowed, hovering above the dozens of floating eyes, a simple symbol that came and went as his form surged out, tall shadows of unworldly design from the book placed below, into the scope of the mortal plane. “This is getting...tiresome. What is it you wish to know?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill Cipher. 

A name most knew in the secluded town, attaching itself onto a decent looking man who had all too many screws loosened; a name that was banned from various states, yet birthed from a wealthy family nobody knew the whereabouts of, only the remnants of ring encrusted hands and luxurious suits in spite of his unemployment. Most assumed they passed away. Others were naturally under the assumption of them being murdered, as the man tended to isolate himself in his studies. A charmer, as it was, not at all socially inept even with the periods he rarely left his home. Some claimed to hear him chatting with himself, perhaps someone else trapped within the walls, scared, unable to free themselves. 

As it were, it could be disputed as he stood before a demon, right in the middle of his living room with welcoming smile. An expression only reserved for things of such a nature. “Can I get a hey?” Bill asked, amusement dancing in the tone. “A hello? How are you? I thought we were becoming friends, Ford.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford’s form was always alive in its own way, a swath of teaming ropes, threads, shadows, and slithering movement as if the clothes and sweater he wore were somehow impossibly and darkly conscious on their own. He sighed, pinching at the bridge of his more human nose with a few threads of his moving hand beneath a pair of glasses before looking back to fully observe the eccentric human he’d come to relate with his life, even the vast of floating eyes among his static of black having a somewhat exasperated expression there. Not that it was true to his real feelings on the matter, but...all the same. 

Because it was true, there was more intrigue in Cipher than perhaps Dipper (Mason) Pines or others in all the millennia that spanned to demand his attention. Cipher was intriguing in a way that had not engaged him in...well, really far beyond his reaches of memory, far beyond the reaches of pages of tomes and endless conquest. It was one reason he found himself drawn consistently to return to his calls where as with other less fortunates he may ignore or outright breed chaos there, destroying their rather dismal, dim, dull lives at the tediousness of it all. This sort of destruction moreover was in his nature, rather than anything personal or enjoyed.

His only revealing of his interest in the boy (as everything in millennia seemed to be “boy” compared to him) was simply the fact he “endured” hours upon hours with the human and continued to come whenever a summon was cast. Otherwise one may think him truly exasperated by the other. 

“...Bill. I am an infinite demon of a vast reservoir of knowledge and ancient wisdom...I warn you concepts such as friendship are well beyond me.” He stated idly. Which...was mostly true. At least in its own way and in its own definition, in a way that you couldn’t compare a demon to a mortal for instance, or the concepts between them as anything so neatly colored in, so black and white when you analyzed it all.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Is it?” Bill’s smile twitched, if only a little as he observed the creature before him. There’s notes and journals scattered amongst the coffee table, stains from imported wines soaked into the corners with pens and pencils clustered together. He made himself comfortable on the couch, patting his pockets, feeling for the outline as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, chest the warmest it’s ever been. 

Every meeting started this way. At some point he began to believe the creature was the sole reason he awoke in the mornings. A lovely, very warm feeling that blossomed throughout his chest, enough to bring back some of his own humanity. 

“I would have never guessed,” he continued smoothly, the briefest flick of a fire lighting the stem between his teeth. “Aside from me attempting to both become your friend and future lover, I _have_ summoned you for an actual reason. The date can be postponed, I’m afraid. I know how much it kills you inside.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He looked at the other blatantly. “...Indeed.” He replied dully, really the only response that the human would gain from the comments. There wasn’t typically much otherwise to be said for these constant stream of strangely flirtatious jibes. He could...well, tell the sort of effect he had on the mortal. Ford had been many things over the millennia. Worshiped. Revered. Many humans had even tried to entrap him, bind him down to their own demise, or sell their souls for certain subjects of wisdom or lore that seemed beyond all reach. But certainly, flirtatious or romantic gestures had...never really come into the equation before. It was...interesting. And definitely new. 

Still, whatever Bill Cipher may have in mind was intriguing enough in itself to draw him from such eccentric words. With a swath of shadows, the root of which still connected to the book he’d been summoned from, a containment of sorts from which he was always bound, Ford slid forward toward the other. A long streak of shadow still bled behind him to connect him to that page as he went. “And what exactly would that be, Cipher?” A slithering stream of shadow made to adjust his glasses in the flickering firelight, looking to peer at the array of works and books spread across the room.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Most of the work consisted of notes regarding the inhabitants of Gravity Falls, down from thorough sketches of strange anatomy, to town folk, their secrets and oddities that outshined the hick life present. That in itself was a separate segment, unfinished until he simply bothered furthering the investigation. 

“The continuous streak of boredom that plagues my very soul,” Bill explained, a cloud of smoke slipping past his lips as he gestured dramatically into the air. “This town is hitting the expiration date, just like the rest. Most interesting thing I discovered here was _you,_ a rainbow vomiting gnome coming into second. I need to expand my potential. Get what I’m saying here? Reality bending. _Time travel._ ”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dozens of different tendrils wormed their way around every paper, every leaflet, every ounce of information, each of his many eyes floating around his head to take them in with a second’s glance. Dull. Very dull. Boring things indeed. Most of these towns folks weren’t worth mentioning. Even for mortals, the blip of their existence consistently remained...flat. Unworth noting. 

The creatures and oddities of this town did cause some manner of intrigue. They were unique and often held properties that could, on a rare moment, catch his intrigue. Far more than most of the rest of the world and its dull landscapes and repetitive civilizations.

The eyes at his human face behind his spectacles glanced up, studying the other while he allowed the flurry of papers and books to be abandoned to the ground in a flourish of disinterest, the rest of his eyes following to meet Bill with some amount of vague curiosity. “Time travel…” He mused, and above his head a series of images flashes by, as if he were flipping through a virtual book, all the way from time agents, the time tape they utilized, an apocalyptic waste land, to time baby, all the way back to Einstein. 

The series of rapid images faded, disappearing as he collected all he knew on the subject. “You understand I cannot help you with “boredom,” however….” He let in a hiss of air, “I...can...well, empathize with you. Often this stretch of expanse can get tedious...and I don’t welcome it.” If he were honest, there was nothing worse for Stanford than those listless shackles of boredom. As a demon, he had eternity. And eternity meant...certain rough patches. Boredom in itself was worse even than the insults, the dim witted, the poor minds of normality. It was worse than being scorned, captured, taunted, or undermined. Worse than...much of anything in his view point actually. 

After all boredom was the lack of knowledge, the lack of pursuit, a space you remained trapped and secluded in and often it’s only escape was to the vast universe at large, something new and intriguing. Were at enticing prizes of knowledge, of understanding, things of the unknown. He could relate, if nothing else, and leaned back, placing a hand beneath his chin. 

“What exactly could you gain from this...particularly information? I suppose you wish to do it, to travel in time?” He tilted his head, as if a teacher considering a pupil, analyzing him.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“A hands-on experience, if you will.” A jab at the past, to twist and bend his reality as he preferred. While it was newer, far more dangerous territory, Bill wasn’t ignorant of the potential changes that could occur. Some for the worst. Some for the better. A gamble. “See, I’m going to die. Pretty tragic, right? You know that. I’ll grow old, get health complications knowing my family’s track record, and eventually I’ll have to settle down and find someone to pop out my offspring to pass on my bloodline.” 

Bill spoke like he wasn’t human. Rather, someone forever trapped within a cycle he couldn’t escape from. The human lifespan was cold. Short. Insignificant amongst the world. Two generations later and he’ll be forgotten, left in the dirt to forever rot with the rest. “I’m not only after the knowledge of different points in time, but the _experience._ I suppose you can refer to it as a introduction to dimension hopping, if you ever gave me the chance.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Stanford considered there for a moment, the slithering movements of his body shifting like snakes, signalling the only change in the pause apart from the flickering firelight. Before finally, the demon tilted his head, surveying Bill closely. “Hmmm. And what would give me in return for such information?” Ideally, for something this grand, he’d prefer some exchange. Ford wasn’t above teaching those who sought to learn simply as a part of his nature, nor guiding them on the correct educated path to reach it. It was a certain thing he felt...almost compelled, bound to do. As if to bring others under his wing, under a path he’d well worn, under what was, essentially, the very essence of his nature was somehow...necessary. He held a certain bond for those few who truly sought the unreachable. Who sought to go unraveling the intricacies of the cosmos itself. 

Yet for many occasions, particularly grander pieces of knowledge, he preferred a trade. He was well aware of how knowledge was precious...and as was his time, his efforts, his wisdom. To not offer at least some testament, some glimpse of worthwhile lore, art, mythos, or scientific quandary was...rude, some might say. Disrespectful. You do not call a deity of his weight forth without _something_ there to greet him, even just as a sign of that respect.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

After a few drags, Bill crushed the bud into an ashtray with disinterest. Even nicotine hadn’t simmered his nerves, if only making it worse from the recent gloom of lacking in achievements. By this point his peak would be his early twenties, right when he arrived at this town, managing to befriend a child that led to this demon here. Not the best point to retire at, or get lazy in his efforts. Immortality could have been a request as well, but realistically speaking, that too would grow to be dull as he witnessed everything die. By then, relationships and connections surely would lose all value. No need for that torture. 

“Depends on what you want,” he replied, meeting Ford’s eyes as he pushed forward. “Would you like my soul? That’s a thing you guys do, isn’t it? Devouring souls?” A little too much of television happened to mix with factual information pertaining to demons. It was up in the air. “I’d happily give you my hand in marriage, if you preferred that. I surely do!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You know the kinds of things I seek, Cipher.” He stated in some manner of finality, the shifting of his shadows becoming perhaps a little livelier at the conversation and the ideas that chanced behind it. “Knowledge. Wisdom. Rare and valuable ideas that have yet to remain in my tomes.” It was a very large feat to find such artifacts, but not impossible or unheard of. He’d had those in service of him go so far as to procure tomes of Atlantis before it sank into the depth of the oceans, retrieve rare and insightful pieces from the Library of Alexandria after it had been ravaged and burned. Even small poets that never made it large, but who truly had the gift, and small ideas too, mythos and stories, art and intricate paintings. Works of lore and discoveries of certain elements of unknown that Ford had yet to study. 

Ford himself knew the value, the power of real knowledge. Knew it’s inherent risks, it’s inherent place as the most formidable, most prized possession of all. And his libraries of it were rivaled by almost no other.

“And while some lesser demons may be interested in such things, I have never been. Souls certainly have no value to me personally.” He dismissed. To him, a being’s own value of life was their own. How they spent it. What they did with it. It was their right and their responsibility to pursue these paths of knowledge, not Ford’s. Souls were, in his mind, almost...bound to the beings who owned them, just by principle. Anything less was insulting. Almost disrespectful in its own way. Demons who toyed with such things in his mind were to be disregarded and looked down on. They were breaking some fundamental character, some fundamental place in this life that Ford found a distaste for.

He again gave the other a studying expression however, frowning as he moved forward. Again with that...oddly simplistic, mystifying human proposal of romance. Perhaps Bill’s eccentricities were one of the reasons he actually seemed so intrigued in the other though. That and his clear connected path to discover, to reach for the unreachable depths of understanding. He found a certain...enticing element to the creature in that way. “I am a being of the infinite, a cosmic span of darkness and the festering energies of the nether and unseen. I do not believe it possible to…” He made a strange, confused face, “... _marry._ ”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Then allow me to be your lackey,” Bill proposed, quite comfortable given how he leaned in, almost closing the space between them both. Ford’s body structure was intriguing, attractive in all the strangest ways. He wanted to dissect it, leave bits and pieces on a metal plate until there was nothing remaining. Another part wished to simply hold a tendril in his hand, lovingly, perhaps over dessert on his back porch. These conflicting thoughts happened to be frequent, a flaw in his own system. “To obtain the unobtainable. Whatever you wish to seek, I’ll _snuff_ it out and give you that knowledge. What does that handsome head want? Ancient history of the Egyptians? Buried treasures? World-ending monstrosities that awaken at the slick of a foreign tongue? Anything for you.” 

Bill almost snorted. The possibility of entering a relationship with the demon was next to none. Of course, he never once expected any leeway— part of Ford’s charm was his inability to relate to human customs and emotions, and part of the fun was laying romantic gestures onto the table in hopes of confused responses. A being so far out of touch that he couldn’t comprehend the simple concept of friendship. It caused Bill to smile, face flushing with a dust of red at admiring the otherworldly nature. “Sure it is. We could get hitched right now. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I have no use for lackeys.” This at least was familiar territory. Because he certainly had had countless mortals try and secure such a position in the many years of old. But the concept was ludicrous in itself. Worthless. He had no need for mortal slaves or followers. Slaves in of itself was a term he did not prefer. Perhaps worker, student, _disciple_. These suited him just fine. Those of the ever pursuing, learned sort. But not lackey, certainly. 

The rest of Bill’s words however garnered his attention. He seemed to mull it over, and for his part, did not seem to pay mind or bother to the closeness of the other. Mortals tended to keep their distance from him, and rightly so, but Cipher was...a rather odd, unique and somewhat baffling element of a creature. Maybe in due part for his own intrigue he never protested the lack of space. Even contact with his form, however a rogue slithering tendril may come to flash and strike out here and there as if a separate entity of its own accord at such things. While he found Bill was welcome to try, there was no guarantee he didn’t receive a welt here or there for the attempts if the slithering of his body was rather heightened at the time. “Hm.” He considered, “Many of those sound...interesting. However I believe it is up to _you_ , Bill, to make the final decision as to what to present to me. What respect you believe is deserved. Allow your judgement to be the guide to what you think worthy of this trade.”

Stanford certainly liked to guide others. And for him, half of the worth of these trades were what mortals expected to have that value in return. There was something to be said too of the worth of the ideas mortals had, of seeking out something, creating concepts, chasing a formula and having to unfold it all themselves. He found an impulse for these beings to be challenged. Ford was a teacher, after all, at the core of it. And what teacher would he be otherwise? He was also never one to simply bark orders and mold those who sought his talents. No, he was a bit more mysterious, a bit more alluding, forcing his disciples to _work_ should they truly desire knowledge. And of the type that wanted creatures to take responsibility on their own, to learn to rise above the dim witted and listless, the worthless of the cosmos. A certain responsibility and independence was required for these ideas. 

He tilted his head again there, at the last response. And he _was_ confused. Confused, and strangely intrigued in a sort of...mystified kind of way. “I...do not think that is wise.” He replied at once.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s perspective had laid differently. A past not revealed to one soul, but simple observation of his odd behavior had supplied an open book on those past experiences. The mindset of believing a sacrifice was to be made in order to succeed, to even have the slither of happiness that seemed to never freely present itself without a token in exchange. Soft brown eyes observed Ford, contemplating, a hand carding through his own hair as he weighed everything side by side. “Partnership,” Bill began with, gaze straying elsewhere in the room. A shift in tone, the more authentic kind he rarely used in conversations. A brief drop in the act. “That’s.. what I want to offer. Me aiding you in your pursuit of knowledge in exchange for my own needs. An eternal give and take. Rinse and repeat until my dying breath.” 

And.. _why._ Why was the question. He could sugarcoat it with the simple answer of boredom and want for exploration, and while those themselves weren’t necessarily a lie, something else had festered within Bill. Dark. Resentful. A power hungry urge that couldn’t quite be satisfied.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Interesting. Curious. The choice of words had been wise. They’d been very wise. Ford had no use or thought wasted for lackeys, for blind, brainless slaves. He despised the idea of such a burden. He was a being who enjoyed those that sought for their own. Thought for their own. Created, configured, and conquered their own limitations. Partnership. What a very unique choice of words. 

He laughed all the same, a slight chuckle at the boldness of them too. To consider _any_ mortal worthy of being _equal_ to him was...well, impossible. And even comical, in the absurdity of it. But he found he was attracted to the ambition there. Cipher of course must know how limited he himself was, surely. And yet he still pursued this. 

“You do understand what that entails, don’t you, Bill?” The slithering of his shadows, the snaking of threads that wove his very being seemed to increase, festering in a kind of curious energy against the whole of the room. “I wonder if you’ve thought this through, the impact of it. Those who...make these sorts of arrangements are bound to them entirely. There will be no escape. No excuse. You and I would be...dare I say it, bound until _the end of time._ ” Normally he would be presented with books, rare and unobtainable, or theories or ideas or art or possibilities. But this…? This was interesting. It held _intrigue_ of a kind he hadn’t seen in many decades.

Not to mention he’d said it earlier, Ford detested boredom. He went so far to absolutely loathe it. The listlessness. The stagnation of the mind. The constant of one space of being with nothing new to build and create and destroy in between it all. Nothing to sharpen, wisen, challenge, or gain. And this was a very interesting offer that would abolish that idea, if for a brief spell of time. A flicker. “If we should do this, not only would I be bound to abide by my word, but you as well for any subject of research, any whim I may have, any task, no matter the price of it. And you would be compelled to do these things until your death, Cipher.” 

Despite the difference of many demons, Ford himself never made underhanded deals. If anything, he often schooled mortals on their foolhardiness, on their absolute inability to predict the easily seen, spreading it before them with a clear certainty. He was a teacher, not a salesman, and not a grifter. 

And exchange was all well and good, but his real intrigue lay in the final goddess of knowledge and all those who had the will and fortitude to seek it both beneath and alongside him. Besides which, the level this reached would be of the sort he hadn’t made a contract in for...well, an unimaginably long time. Perhaps not since Da Vinci, some time ago. It would be...interesting. And it was fortunate too that he happened to find curiosity in this mortal, the oddity of him seeming to draw his attention where others would be abandoned or even worse.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“No need for the explanation. I know.” When those eyes wandered back onto the demon, starting from square one, there’s some completion to be found. A foundation, a beginning that potentially marked his painful demise all at the expense of power and desperate need of approval. All from someone who wasn’t human. Who could kill him, he was sure, in the blink of an eye, and only time would predict the outcome of when Bill attempted at breaking off the contract from regret. A future bound to happen, though the thought filled the researcher with an untouched excitement. It was a risk he was willing to take. 

“I’m sure you’re well-versed in the lengths humans go through when involving their partners.” A different, much more equal footing relationship that couldn’t compare. This was nothing in terms of unconditional love, if any, even from his side. Merely an infatuation. “I think any sane man wouldn’t be willingly sitting in my position right now. Take that as you will. I’ve had plenty of time to think this over. Days. Weeks. I’m confident in what I want.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You are many things, Bill Cipher, though dim witted, gullible and ill prepared are not among them…” There was a slight smile on his lips, and too, it seemed Cipher had caught him in a kind of fascination. That same slithering spark of intrigue, dancing just beneath the surface of him. “Very well. I accept this offer. But tell me - what is it specifically you expect in return? Do not waste time thinking about just the knowledge I possess on time travel...that is but a trinket, a trifle of a thing. Consider it a _gift_ from me for our new found partnership. So tell me, truly, what else do you expect from this, Bill. What is it you desire.” He had to ask. He found himself entirely compelled to ask in his own way. 

Cipher never ceased to pull at the threads of his curiosity, and it was something that had brought him back here on many occasions, challenging, prodding him in his own ways, leaving with it a sort of enticing curiosity. He made Bill work harder certainly than some of his others who called to him, Mason Pines being one of them, but it was only to speak of the potential he had always seen in the man. “Tell me, Bill. What is it you require from my end of this bargain.” And the slithering movement seemed to grow then, becoming more frenzied, shadows swelling in shape and size behind him, dancing out against the walls; a dark obscurity of long winding, flashing things to cover the fire warm light the fire cast out in a morbidly unearthly fashion, bringing with it an impossible cold into the air along with it. An impossible change. A certain excitement breeding in the depth of it all.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Insane, he was. The sight of darkness swallowing everything whole, an endless nightmare he wished to submerge himself into, grasp it for as long as he could breathe, speak, and think. Bill’s smile was lopsided, a charming thing he was once complimented on in the midst of a poker game where his deception won. He remembered that night. A first where he experienced elation after many, many years of being trapped in depression. A small moment, but addictive, being held to a pedestal as others surrounded him in praise. One too many drinks occurred that night, one too many people borrowing his bed in the heat of the moment. 

Bill glanced over the rubies and diamonds that sat on his knuckles, an initial engraved into the golden bands. “Power,” he said, finally. “I know, I know. Generic. There’s many things that could fall into that definition. Having some wacky corporation, dictatorship, world domination, all of the stereotypical villainous activities. But..” he bit the inside of his cheek, smile almost dipping into a frown. “I want to exceed that. Any and everything.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He laughed then, a rough thing, still a darkness lingering there. Of course it did. In it all, it was a part of what he _was_ . And of course Bill did. That too, it seemed, was a part of what _he_ was. “Naturally.” He surmised, still amused. In Stanford’s own way he too sought power. However, in all his time seeking it, it had come to him that the only real power lay in knowledge. In the continued conquest of it. Perhaps Cipher would see this too and the futility of power in the real world. Kings were the most listless, most diseased and idle of all. Those who sought power often found it never reached their expectations and went mad from it all. 

Ford didn’t mind. It interested him. Because in fact as well, those who sought power would do almost _anything_ to get their hands on it. And ambition lay beneath the surface. Stanford appreciated ambition. He respected it. It could be the driving force to turn the tides of something otherwise seen as impossible, drive men to reach knowledge and space unobtainable. It was a thing and a fire like nothing else. “I do not shake on these deals in a traditional sense, Cipher. You will see. And I will grant you what you wish for, in my own way.” And he moved forward against the floor in a shift of inky darkness, “Step closer, Bill Cipher. Once agreeing there will be a mark on your soul. You should know...this won’t end when you die. We will continue to be connected, regardless of what transpires after.” And the darkness seemed greater now in that swirling excitement, the threads from his chest lifting and coiling through the air like great snakes, surging upward as Ford reached out a hand, six rope-like fingers reaching out to pull Bill into the absolute madness of it all.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Funny.” Bill stood, confident, inviting as he took those final steps closer, extending a hand into the finality of it all. For Ford. For Mason, even. For the knowledge and suicidal mission of it all, to make a point for those who aren’t even around to bear witness to anymore. His chest swelled for the happiness he would kill for, for everything to return it back to his clutches. He gripped Ford’s hand, tight, secured, head held high as his laughter rang throughout the manor. “That’s a marriage proposal if I ever heard one!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

As soon as Bill clasped at his impossibly alien hands the tendrils of them wrapped cold around the human’s wrist. The threads that opened his chest cavity revealed nothing but darkness swirling inside of it all, nothing but an black endless chasm, impossible shifting of utter lack of color and light. All the while each of Ford’s many eyes of shapes and color were focused on Bill, and each had thinned to slits, their respective colors filling out the entirety of them, leaving behind no whites at all. The rope-like threads at his chest opened it up wider, surging into the room at large which had become so much colder by now, as if to deafen and dim all color and warmth entirely, pulling and sinking it from the space as if the two had somehow plunged into the icy depths of a lake. And all at once the threads weaving up Bill’s arm pulled him fiercely forward, straight into the abyss of Ford’s open chest, the tendrils of cloth rearing back around like the spreading of some sickening wings, before collapsing in on themselves, against the pair, as if to consume Cipher whole.

And consume them they would. In a rush of cold, in a rush of darkness, they came onto the human as if a pack of closing wolves, and he would feel nothing but a numbing ice, a distinct and hungry, ageless, timeless _cold_. It would drive deep, deep, deep into his skin, into his bones, into his chest, into every part of him. And he would glimpse upon Stanford’s true nature then. The very real depth of him, perhaps as much as a mortal could glimpse that of an endless entity such as himself without being driven to madness. 

For his part, Ford did his best to shield the other’s gaze on the extent that would reach that level. But he would glimpse it. That cool hunger, the endless drive for knowledge, the insatiable need to continue his grasping pursuit for the ever fleeting goals of power. The brief moments throughout history he’d reached to grace humans and others with such desires for it, and too, his intrigue in the arts of teaching and guidance and...perhaps even more _human_ things such as games and occasional company. And mostly, at the heart of it, that dark pit that swirled through him, cold and calculating, to make up his very nature, the nature of something so removed from humanity, so removed from the space of time and conceptions of frailty. Stanford had lived trillions of years. And he would carry on for even more, his goal both unobtainable, and irresistibly sought.

And in it too Ford would see much of Cipher’s true nature there. It was what was required. A _proper_ exchange. A fair exchange. 

In the next moment Ford broke away, the swaths of cloth-like flesh drawing the other out from the whole of him. But Bill would find that they weren’t in his room, that they were in his house no longer. And Ford was no longer bound by the book that had summoned him there, instead his feet free against the sleek, marble ground. 

Above and around towered an endless, spacious, pristine library. One painted in reds, vibrant golds and browns, stretching and stretching and stretching into the infinite. It was three stories high, with great pillars inscribed with many markings and symbols. Where they stood a fireplace indeed crackled to life, large and impressive, but so different from Cipher’s. Larger somehow, more ethereal and with it were an array of sofas and armchairs, all comfortable seated there as if created simply for the homey need to relax and read before its warmth.

Ford pulled back some, looking Cipher over, studying him to be certain the impact of what had just occurred had not broken him somehow, overwhelmed his mortal being, and done damage that would cause him irreparable harm. Deals like this often ended in chaos to the makers for some time, however Ford had learned over the eons to have a more gentle touch on it all, enough as to not shatter the mind of the weak willed. On the other hand, he had no interest in the weak.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Haunting, as he expected it to be. The smile had all but collapsed in the rush of exhilaration and fear invoked upon the human. Bill found _beauty_ in it. The core of Ford, the dark reality endlessly swarming and suffocating his entire being as blood ran cold, cheeks unknowingly dampening as his eyes remained unblinking. Wide with terror and astonishment, unable to close in the greater fear of missing the slightest disturbing imagery that was meant for _him._ He bared witness to it all. _Felt_ it all, a streak of sobs almost escaping his throat as it clashed with ecstatic laughter. One only a madman could have, loud enough to make his throat grow raw. 

Then.. he stumbled, no longer surrounded, no longer being consumed by what he deemed as madness. Bill had no time to observe his surroundings. He couldn’t stop laughing, shaking, and crying, a fit of hysteria as he collapsed to the floor, hands twisting themselves into his hair as he violently writhed, a choked and broken chant of Ford’s name being called. A breakdown. Needed, and for the first, but couldn’t possibly be at the worst time.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford stood there, the once ravaging shifting tides of cloth like flesh of his body now seemingly calmed, returning back to their melodious, slower movements and natural rhythms. And as Bill broke down and collapsed right there in front of him the chaotic being knelt at once, placing a hand at the feeble creature’s shoulder, a solid and heavy thing, though still masked in a radiance of gentle cold. One that Bill would find in himself now too, perhaps even reacting to the feeling as if it were his own. They were connected now. 

“Cipher.” He spoke calmly, evenly, grip tightening, “You must ground yourself. Ground yourself _in_ yourself, Cipher. This will be your first task. Your first lesson. Your first conquest. Find your own being, your own light, you are lost like this now.” That aura, that light of the mortal’s will have changed some of course, shifted from the golden hues of the human’s aura to a slight mix of cooler blues of his own. An adjustment would be required. And well, when Bill had been pulled into the sea of his being, there was never a chance he would leave it entirely. There would always be some of him inside the other. Even for Ford, some of the human’s soul was melded inside of him, marking him too...the difference being it was but a small, small sliver, a slightness that could never match the full weight of his existence. “Guide yourself to it, to your own mind, your own soul or be forever lost in madness.” He held the tendrils at Bill’s shoulder, as if to ground the other in the touch, an urgency there in his voice.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“F-Ford I-“ Each word was spluttered to a terrifying a degree. This wasn’t common. It felt like every emotion, all the trauma and tragic events had clustered into an overwhelming crash, Ford being the last to tip it over. He glanced up, shattering, breaking, his hands unable to decide whether they wanted to continue being curled or to reach out and touch his demon for comfort. _His._ Whose voice had sent a wave calmness over him, putting a stop to the laughter, yet the crying and shaking remained as everything came to a burning, painful halt. 

Bill blinked the tears out his eyes, stared at the floor, ceiling, then back up at the demon hovering above him. He cracked a fragile smile, all too open. He wouldn’t fall into madness. No, not yet. There was much to do.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford seemed to relax somewhat as Bill managed to regain at least _some_ sense. Some sliver of it. It was enough to prove the creature had what it took to withstand the melding. Had what it took to make a deal like this and survive it on the other side. It was a treacherous path, making these kinds of bonds, particularly between mortals and beings like himself. And if the mortal on the other end were driven into a state of absolute madness, broken and irreparable, it was a hassle, a disruption for him to be rid of. Other humans who had been considered “great” in their time had also fallen apart in a gibbering mess after this process, just to climb back up, fight into the world and overcome. That difference was in that alone. It was a test by fire, of sorts, whether Stanford wanted it to be or not. Who would be worthy, capable of withstanding and growing in this arrangement, and who would fall and be tossed aside. Not to say he hadn’t tried to ease the impact, lighten the load of it significantly, but you could only do so much. Particularly for Bill, who he had too much an intrigue in to waste so early in. 

He found himself glad that Bill had made it regardless. At least in a certain way and he continued to rest his hand there, continued to be a guide as a steady force to perhaps ease the human back into himself and the current changes that had formed there so abruptly.

Many other demons he knew had no interest in these sorts of bonds that now pulled between the two of them. Often using mortals as puppets, or taking all of their essence with little of value in return. Schemes and cheap tricks mingled throughout. But for Ford, an equal exchange wrought to the depth of the sense of a respect he had in himself. It felt necessary and held a certain meaning to him. He was too proud, too honor bound by certain concepts to behave as such a lower demonic lifeform might. Partners, which while laughable, rang better to him. Or perhaps students, equally exchanged in other ways. Not servants, slaves, or play things. Such ideas were _beneath_ him. He was greater than that and often scoffed at those ideas. He despised the notion of enslavement and anyone who fell to such ideas or became enslaved in turn were not worth the mud under his boots. 

There too was also truth to the fact they belonged to each other now. 

They’d entered something that could never, not on either’s will, ever be broken. It was one reason he found the frail human concepts such as “marriage” so laughably foreign and even childlike. Such bonds were...well, meaningless in their own ways. Most human bonds and concepts tended to be, even if at times they drew a slight fascination from him. Yes, they were bound now, for eternity. 

“I am here, but do not waver from this space in yourself, Bill. Whatever cruelties, whatever distaste or otherwise you may find, keep your feet rooted in your own energy and mind and you _will_ adjust. I promise you this much. There is an endless path ahead of us, and I am afraid you will need to adapt to my nature, that which is now _your_ nature, to reach it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Easier said than done. The trembling had drained most, if not all of his energy, sucking him dry as he forcibly collected each individual thought. In the typical fashion, a clear mechanism used in order to gain control of the situation, Bill choked out, “Th-That’s.. about the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” The dedication was there, strong and growing, not to be deterred by the mental and physical exhaustion that screamed to simply drown and never return to sanity. To give in, let it all end here and now. 

A final sob escaped through clenched teeth as he went to hold himself up on forearms, steadily attempting to stand on both feet. His knees already wanted to buck, chest caving in on itself, but he pushed through. “I’m.. I got it,” he said, entirely exasperated. “... I got it. I got it, Ford. I’m alright.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

A smile came to the demon, a slight, but satisfied thing and he stepped back, releasing his hold as the human climbed to his feet, still struggling, still seemingly on the edge of it all. But it was standing now. Yes. Good, that was exactly what he wanted to see. This was overcoming. If just… _enough._ Just enough to begin forward. 

_Adapting_ , that was the key. 

“It will take time. Very few make this far, Bill Cipher...you’ve done well.” He complimented, and meant it. Ford rarely spoke in riddles or lies, and also never seemed much for untrue flattery all considered. It was a wasted breath of air to indulge in the ridiculous social structures and the strange dancing of meanings and non meanings humans tended to involve themselves in. And what was more, what was worse and far more prominent, all of it obscured truth. And knowledge _was_ truth. To lie would be almost on par to the amount of blasphemy for the demon. No, he didn’t lie. And in all his existence he never found a reason to. 

“Although...I still do not...quite understand this concept of romance. Perhaps?” He sounded confused for a moment before he stepped back again, still studying the other intently, the gaze beneath his spectacles careful, cautious, not missing a thing as his other eyes seemed to return to their usual listlessness. And too he found he could feel the tide of the other’s emotions clearly. He was certain if Cipher were to dig enough, he would feel the tide of his own, albeit perhaps was not the best time for the human to explore those concepts all considering. 

“How do you feel, Bill Cipher?” He wanted Bill to find this answer on his own, to plant himself in it. After all, Ford already knew.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Like a fucking degenerate in need of a fix,” Bill admitted, clambering to his feet as he clutched his stomach. The weight had settled, an uncomfortable sickness meshing with his excitement. Maybe that was symbolic horseshit of his own life, but the thought quickly faded before he had the chance of getting metaphorical. He was unable to stand still, a shiver still present, fingers twitching against the fabric of his suit as he wrinkled it with death grip- a clench for his own reality that consisted of cold sweats, demons, and insanity meeting all at the same spot. He should have finished that cigarette. 

“I.. well.” Bill swallowed the knot in his throat, clearing it as he recalled what was said previously. Words were slipping in one ear and out the other. “Don’t.. think too hard about the romance. Would you believe me if I told you even _I’m_ not in the mood to flirt with you? Isn’t that.. crazy? Oh, Ford, the things you _literally_ do to me. Inside and out.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford seemed satisfied with the answer, blatantly ignoring the ideas again about mortal, animal ideas of “romance”. It seemed to him more a way for Cipher to grasp onto this world, to his sanity, some method to cope right now. It was all just as well. He strode around Bill, a slithering of shadows following in his wake, observing him, taking him in. Good. This was going...decently, all considering. Better than expected. 

“Such things are to be expected. It will take time to adapt.” He commented idly, nodding in some amount of approval as he walked the full circle around the human. “Are you ready then to see the realm this path has taken you to?” He stepped back then, the dark red fabrics slithering at his chest writhing, the trench coat billowing out in an invisible wind, his glasses flashing white as he gestured wide behind him toward the sea and rows of infinite books and tomes. “This space...this is my abode. A pocket dimension of my own, a “physical” representation of all the knowledge I’ve collected in these countless eons. And now it belongs to you as well. You may come here whenever you wish. It is the world of the “Dreamscape,” and meditation as well as sleep will lead you back here, should you desire it. Now that we have created this bond, you will find the halls will respond to your touch, your will power. In here you will find every shred of knowledge I have obtained.

“Though be warned, I am not one for simplicity. Each and every tomb is...vastly complicated. And many will take many years to study. Along the way, should you be capable of it, I will enter your mind and teach you many things, Cipher. In sleep. In waking. Grant you much knowledge that you request. But I will tell you now, it will not be easy, as I am sure you now understand, and adapting may prove to be....” He hesitated, “...rather challenging. I’m sure you’ve heard of many notable humans in history who have made such deals with me...the majority, by the end...unfortunately have gone mad from it. Empedocles. Da Vinci. Michelangelo. Van Gogh.” He waved it off. “A few whom I saw potential. It is not impossible to overcome these ideas, but you will need to be vigilant to not be among those that met this fate.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Course I am.” Bill’s voice continued to waver, though soon, had calmed down, at least into something manageable. After a minute, he released hold on himself, adjusting his collar and cuffs casually as to not entirely ruin his appearance. Having a mental breakdown in front of your romantic interest never made for a good impression. A mere delay in the greatness of it all as he lifted his head, baring witness to the decades of knowledge presented before him. “You think I ever expected this to be easy?” It was rhetorical, at best. “That’s the fun of it, Ford. If I was being handed things on a silver platter, well. Let’s just say my attraction and interest in you would be close to zero.” 

Bill’s heart was still in his throat. It’s almost suffocating. “Don’t worry about it. I.. got this. I do. A promise to myself and you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford seemed satisfied with that. The writhing and activity of those shadows seeming to settle, albeit a subtle energy still remained there, excited almost, eager beneath the surface. Hungry in some strange, chaotic way. “I see.” He surmised. And he did see that about Cipher. That _potential,_ that ambition. A certain manic strength. He was different from those that sought power just to have it of course. Different from the dull, or those dim witted enough to think it enough. Ford could always tell he enjoyed the challenge. And like him, he detested boredom, the dull, the listless. 

This would make a very decent arrangement indeed. And perhaps challenge Stanford too, in its own way. 

“Very well. In that case, once you are stable, our lessons will begin. I will be teaching you how to enter this space at your will and how to locate the knowledge you seek. As well of course to contact me when needed. I still cannot manifest in the real world without that book, without those symbols and the force of will to call me through them, however, ask for me and I will hear you. You and I share a much different bond than any other mortals, William. I understand that you will not soon forget this.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“William? We’re getting personal, I see.” Oh, his heart fluttered, whether it be from the long forgotten and unused birth name he tossed to the side, now dipped with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, or the concept of being referred to formally by a demon. Both, most likely. 

“I’d say this calls for a celebration on this new relationship.” He clapped his hands together, practically beaming despite the unstable stance. “Have you ever done that? Partook in a celebration?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford considered him for a moment, surveying the changes. He was still mildly pleased at this outcome. This progress. “When I was...a younger creature. Perhaps once or twice, with my brother.” And there was something, mentions of a family once, lost and abandoned in the ages. “But...no. Not for many, many millennia.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Had a brother, huh.” Family was a rough subject, but piqued his interest in this form. Given the opportunity, he weakly circled Ford, getting a better view of the demon’s structure. Checking him out, basically. “Then let’s recreate a moment. I’m not sure what customs you things got going on, but where I come from, we pop bottles, sing, and dance until the sun comes up.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I am a demon, not a thing.” He spoke calmly, entirely levelly, but his gaze seemed to be more scrutinizing then, a little more towards something edging on dangerous. And in warning. _Don’t mistake benevolence for weakness,_ was the message there. The reality of his power clear and stirring beneath the surface. When mortals got under his skin, truly disrespected him, it frankly proved to be the last they ever managed to do. But after a pause, after that dark gaze and swirlings of dark cloth that seemed to hold a bit more foreboding, he finally considered. “We do have...certain substances. Certain rituals, though I...cannot say I have partaken in them for many eons...”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill ducked slightly, perhaps learning the lesson off the bat. The quickest he would ever correct himself, some shame and attraction being hand in hand at the scolding. He would take note in the future, though for now, continued smiling away as if nothing occurred. “Let’s give it a go,” he suggested. “No better way to start a new partnership than by exchanging our foreign customs. A lovely introduction for bonding, don’t you think?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford considered this. He seemed to stand there for a good moment, his every shifting body continuing to slither and shift, all while he studied the human. “...If you believe it appropriate.” He finally gave. “I can manifest some of this realm’s...substances into your world, if you prefer, in the same manner I do for my physical form. However, it may prove easier on your mind and body if we simply remained here, in this space.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I _do._ ” Temptation sought after him as eyes gazed over the tendrils, a more morbid curiosity present, if only to trace the outline of Ford’s facial structure and eyes that surrounded him. If he weren’t a demon, personal space would have been broken an hour ago. “Either way is fine with me. If you say this place is better, then so be it. I’m pumping with excitement.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“For your physical and mental well being...yes, I would recommend as much. In this space, your physical body can come to no harm, remember this. Not unless you were to enter this place entirely alongside me. In time, perhaps, you will learn such things. But not now. Now, your mind is the only thing that exists in these corridors. But heed those words, William, and be cautious. For while you and I are connected, there is always the chance that lesser demons and beings of this realm may want to siphon that energy from you, and drag you into their dreamscapes. Of course, you have my protection, but for some that means very little. ” And with that, Ford brought out his arm in a single flash, a wave in which revealed suddenly an old oak table to appear before them, handcrafted, tasteful and clearly aged. 

A few glasses appeared there at once, but rather than the teapot he’d normally prefer, a glistening crystal bottle filled with gold appeared instead, landing softly with a gentle clinking to the surface. 

“In our customs my family often devoured the remnants of the dying cosmos, the spiralings of black holes and the echoes of raging supernova...however,” He considered the bottle, “this will do. It is fairly diluted and...from my understanding, at least… _somewhat_ similar to your more refined alcoholic substances.” Of which, once upon a time, had been considered sacred, holy, a medicine and a method to commune with the gods. Once, many generations ago. A few black tendrils wove against the crystal bottle and he poured the drinks in each cup, however Ford did not particularly seem to know what to do in a celebration setting. Even sharing a drink with a mortal was ludicrous. Beyond such beings as himself. Beyond such beings as the cosmos. For whatever reason, it felt appropriate. He lifted his glass in a nod to the human.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Understood, Ford. All locked up here.” Bill jabbed a finger into his own throbbing forehead, relatively surprised at his cooperation. The drinks naturally pulled him in; maybe or maybe not he was an alcoholic starting at the age of eighteen, unable to get his hands on any other substances to abuse, but it had aged into something stored for celebratory purposes. “That’s.. amazing,” he said after a moment, eyeing the liquid with practically stars in his eyes, the drowsiness behind knocked from him. He took a cup, grinning, then held it in the air. “In this part, we clank our glasses together and declare a toast. Not sure why this ever became a thing, but I’m certain there’s some dark explanation regarding sacrifices knowing my race. Then we drink. How’s that sound?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“There are many reasons, from many cultures.” Ford supplied, at once. It was a bit ridiculous to pose a question to an infinite being of knowledge and not expect the answer, after all. “To satisfy all five senses; touch, taste, sight, smell...and sound, as wine was a luxury and a delicacy then. As a way to ward off evil spirits in the sound of it, or the spilling of wine as offering for those wayward entities that may linger beneath one's feet. To offer worship or sacrifice even, a symbolism for such things. “Primarily however, it was done as a sign of proving that poison was not concealed in the glass. Once in this stretch of time wine was a common concealer of poison, and should you bring your glasses together, the liquid would splash between your two cups, ensuring both die by the same hand.” He continued, though a tendril wove around the glass and brought it in all respects toward Cipher’s regardless of this. “I suppose that’s fitting enough.” And he did just this, clinking the glass just enough so a slight of each other’s liquid spilled between the glasses in a seamless fluidity. 

The drink itself tasted of gold. Of warmth, of light, of the streaming rays of the sun on a hot summer day. It had almost no texture, no structure to it; rather it seemed as if an impossible, unnameable substance and would coarse, flooding through every inch of one’s body like the streaming rays of the flaring, filtering sunlight, touching gently at every nerve, and every sight. Colors would become more vivid, more prominent. And anxieties, listlessness, even inhibitions would fade and dull.

It had been some time since he’d tried it. This particular stock something of a millennia old at least, gifted to him and stocked away for a unique or particular day that never came. Ford tested it against his tongue, musing in the warmth. It was pleasant, however he found himself preferring a much harder bite than this one provided. One that would combust the span of the cosmos, like that of an imploding star, would reel into the pits of him and come out hungry for more. Such things were preferable to this. Darker and harsher. But he was drinking with a human, a mortal, and such concepts he knew would more than likely destroy the being. He had to be careful. Safer. Better to simply bring out a finer substance, but one that posed little inherent risks.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Thank you for the explanation. I have you know, I could listen to you spill information for hours.” He smiled, authentic. “Cheers for a longtime partnership, Ford. Hopefully the poisoning talk hasn’t given you any ideas.” 

Bill clanked the glass in unison, content, bringing it to his lips as he briefly inspected the liquid, taking a light sip in order to test the waters. One of the strangest things that hit his tongue, yet exhilarating for the experience, the softer memories that occurred of him and his sibling toying with tadpoles after it rained one Saturday evening. Odd to recall, but there it was, gently passing over like a breeze, his arms going slack as these lazy sips resumed.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Indeed.” He agreed, his tone perhaps even a bit more companionable as he tipped his glass to the other before finally taking another drink, shadows dancing against the still flickering firelight as a pair of comfortable looking sitting chairs appeared at either end of the table, the shiftings and slitherings of his body continuing to dance and squirm though by now in a more gentle, easier way. Perhaps this was not entirely human custom for celebrations, the easier atmosphere of the situation...but it seemed suited. He enjoyed it. Companionable, that was certainly the word. 

He eased himself into the chair, propping his leg crossed against the other in a more relaxed fashion. 

Should he desire it, he would allow Cipher to put forth suggestions should they arise in this occasion. It had been his desire to celebrate after all. His eyes, the ones behind his glasses to the other’s form in. Reaching gently, prodding at the surface, trying to discover, reveal where his mind and spirit were at. If he was still struggling as much as earlier, perhaps there just beneath the surface, pulling at the fraying strings of sanity. It was another reason the “celebrations” had deemed to Ford to being a good idea. Particularly in this substance as it was gentle, but hot, reassuring but coarse in its own way. Too much could become too bright and perhaps disorienting, but it would not risk to tip the mortal over the edge.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill.. finished the drink quickly. Addictive in its own special way, then again, most generic alcoholic substances he downed were the same in that regard. He even licked the rim, momentarily forgetting his manners as he chased for the warmth, lapping the last remaining drops. Bill’s face was hot. Not too reddened in color, but satisfied, a lightweight he couldn’t exactly help. At the very least, he wasn’t drunk. “If you wouldn’t _mind,_ ” he started with, a light chuckle unable to refrain from escaping. “I do have _one_ request. A little, very simple one.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford studied him then as he leaned back in the chair, taking in the human, but nodded for him to continue. “A request...and what might that be?” He found himself reasonably satisfied that Bill was not about to relapse back into hysteria. Taking note of his dependencies. They’d never been a secret to him. Never hidden. It was a trait many humans and...quite frankly, other beings of the cosmos shared. Cipher was not unique in this way, even if he found some stir of distaste for the eagerness in the human to take in every drop. A habit he would unlearn in their time together. He would make sure of it. _Patience._ Pose. Practicality. Without it, nothing would truly be gained.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It appeared important at first, given the whole show he displayed of rolling up his sleeves, setting the glass down as he smoothed his hair back in preparation. When he opened his mouth, however, it had strayed away from anything relatively interesting, if only a selfish desire he was jonesing to make a reality. “If you would allow it, I would appreciate.. ahem. A hug. Yes, a simple display of physical affections shared between us both, to commemorate this celebration.” Plenty of words that basically translated to him wanting to touch Ford with permission.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“A….hug.” Ford repeated dully, blankly. He just stared at the other, even the many eyes floating above his head turning to have a perplexed look. “...You want an….embrace?” There were again many things in his lifetime which he had come accustomed to. In which he had discovered to lay before his feet. Sacrifices, worship, all the darkest of offerings. However, it seemed to him those like Bill, and even Mason, were...somewhat removed from this particular world. He lifted the glass again to his lips, taking it slow before lowering it again. “I do not believe that to be wise.” He finally said.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yes, an embrace.” As silly as it was, there was some value behind it all, at least for himself. It wasn’t common for Bill to seek the touch of another person, nonetheless a demon who contained endless knowledge, but even those human urges had kicked in from time to time. Partially influenced by recent events. “Could you elaborate? Would it kill me?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Something strange. That was perhaps the definition he found in William over their time together. A strange thing. A rather eclectic, entirely bizarre creature, certainly something off the normal compared to most mortals he’d come across to even request such a thing. He felt briefly sure that perhaps the human would push it too far one day. His requests too demanding. Already they tipped the edge, if only just. Demanding things that would perhaps put him as more an amusement, a curiosity than the being of infinite resources and knowledge he truly was. 

“No.” He finally said, the golden liquid swirling gently in his glass as if in some consideration. However, despite these thoughts, today was not that day. “It would not kill you. At least...I think more likely not.” He paused then, as if doubting the words. He honestly couldn’t quite predict the chaotic aspects of his nature then, the realistic reactions involved in it, that festering dangerous hunger that lay beneath the surface of his being in this moment. “Perhaps in the state I am now would be unwise...and regardless, I do not imagine it to be at all enjoyable.” He scratched at his chin, still mulling against it, “All considering, it...may be wiser to wait for such unusual requests until both of us have adjusted. My nature has become…” He took a breath, “...wanting.” was all that was left to be said there, with no explanation added. Festering. Grabbing at the seams and threads of energy between them. The hues of gold and blue. A chaos, an animal sort of thing that met like cold water beneath a thick layer of ice, beneath the calm, intellect and pose. No...perhaps that sort of idea, particularly somewhat intimate ones by comparison, were not wise in such a freshly reborn state that the two now sat within.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Ah.” Animalistic, he would call it, though avoided vocalizing such a thing in order to avoid antagonizing his partner. Bill tucked his hands into his pockets, somewhat disappointed and still enamored by the response. He was patient. Perhaps not towards others of his race, but Ford held a special respected position. “Wanting,” he echoed. “A very flattering word. I’m _absolutely_ sure that isn’t code for ripping my body into pieces.” 

The words were cheerful, still holding onto that high energy that was once sucked from him moments prior. “I’m not hugging you simply because it would physically be enjoyable, just to clarify. It’s the thought. Oh well.” He shrugged, balancing on the back of his heels. “Always next time! I am interested in getting this show on the road. Thank you for the drink, by the way.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

There was a chance of that, quite honestly. But he didn’t offer the confirmation, instead he tilted his head to the other, “Yes...next time perhaps.” Perhaps as things settled, when the both of them became more even among the new formed bond, it would be worth allowing the mortal in such a whim. Even if there was a certain aspect of excitement to it all, a thrill in the depth of the situation, the new found bond, decidedly it was still wise to avoid any...temptations or confrontations with these aspects and risks in himself. Instead he set the glass on the table and nodded. “I take it you are ready to return to your world, then...?"

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yes.” Bill gave a final glance around the room, inhaling, a newfound confidence coming into play. He felt good, bright. A surge of adrenaline that could leave him running laps around the Falls without pause. “I have someone I need to speak to. My only other pal in this dump. Never been one to keep a friend, but hey. I got a soft spot for kids.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

A slightly contemplative look came to him then at the words, an image of a pine tree appearing above his head for a brief flicker of a moment. “Dipper.” He responded easily and without surprise. Mason Pines, to be more accurate. But he knew full well the child’s preferences on the name. “Very well. However, you may want to consider allowing yourself some rest for the next few days.” And he got back to his feet, striding toward the other and held out his hand for Bill to grasp onto, to take him back to his mortal plane. “Soon enough...I will be teaching you how to enter and leave this place on your own, William. Do you understand?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Otherwise known as the disgusting ice cream, Dippin’ Dots.” Bill laughed at his own joke, no shame apparent as he recreated the space between him and Ford. He reached out, something that would never grow old, hand in the palm of a demon’s with a secured grip. _His_ demon. Partner. For eternity. “I understand perfectly clear. I hope you’re looking forward to what awaits us. For once, I have a good feeling.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Apparently, Stanford did not get the reference. “Alright. Hold onto yourself, Cipher.” Again the weaves of fabric shot outward from the demon, however the feeling, the cold of Ford’s grip was different somehow. Not as biting as when they’d made the deal, not as deep, not as endless. The bond had already been forged and all it took was a surge of black that swept, curling, rifting over the endless space all around, blinding them, consuming them and...in the next moment Bill would awaken back in his home. The book still open, however all signs of Ford’s presence gone. Aside perhaps from a difference in feeling, a difference in temperature, an unchangeable thing deep inside Bill that would fester there and remain that way. Forever.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill wasn’t necessarily sure if he would ever become accustomed to the feelings this transport had produced, his soul feeling sucked out of his body, if not entirely replaced with someone else’s. His return into the emptied living room left him disoriented, confused, at first, until his gaze glued onto the familiar pages left amongst his table. A clutter in need of being organized, but a reassurance lying within the book. Another smile, the giddiness exceeding all else as he booked it out of his home, snatching the keys off the hook beside the door. Today marked history. A history that would be reshaped underneath his control, molded and twisted, pasts erased and recreated. 

A few neighbors had gifted Bill a strange look. More than usual as he bursted outside, spinning and cackling loud enough to startle nearby resting crows who picked at a deceased possum. It wasn’t unusual to hear his laughing fits, but this one sounded.. far happier than explicitly crazed.


	2. The Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill is infatuated, Dipper is just what the fuck to everything.

It was a long day. Dipper sat against his bed, grateful as just _anything_ else that Mabel was out with her friends. Seriously. He loved his sister, but, come on, _seriously._ There was something kind of almost grimdark to be said about the kind of glitter and makeovers and _constant screaming_ at levels only dogs could hear that drove him through the roof. He spent the day instead reading away his time, clicking at his pen he used to write notes in the margins on and off as he grinned at his book, chuckling as the plot carried on with a _partiiiiicularly_ interesting twist. “Oh-hoh!” He enthused, bringing the pen to clasp between his teeth as he turned the page. “Buwt wars da cifers?” 

It was a peaceful time. Heck, a nice time even. A kind of...relaxed, rare moment not spent chasing the monsters in the woods, trying to urge a demon of infinite knowledge to give him some clues as to how to defeat unicorns in arm wrestling, and trying not to get himself killed every other day on voluntary mystery adventures. It was kind of challenging when the only other lead you had on supernatural capers was an eccentric, somewhat fascinating, _prooooobably_ insane guy who lived by himself in what amounted to a mansion, but...well. Dipper never claimed his life was normal. And hey, who was he really kidding here? He’d never want normal either way.

“That’s right, folks,” He muttered, pen dropping back into hand, “Dipper Pines, Supernatural Extraordinaire. At your services.” He breathed out thunder his breath to no one in particular. It had been really something of a long summer now. And, honestly, once school started it'd be even longer. 

But like he said. It was a pretty relaxed, easier going day. Some good old catch up time with him, the Sibling Brothers, and maybe a few ciphers he’d found scrounging around in ancient books that also happened to be capable of summoning the equivalent of some kind of ancient knowledge Beelzebub. 

So, naturally, things were pretty much bound for chaos. He glanced up and out the window in thought just in time to catch sight of a certain particular someone coming up to their door, his heart leaping into his chest. Was that… _Bill?_

Holy shit.

He dropped his book, throwing the pen in it as a place holder and scrambled to his feet, nabbing his iconic pine tree hat on autopilot along the way to shoving his way down the stairs and hoping to god he got the door before his uncle Fiddleford did. He’d never hear the end of it if it were the case, their uncle could be _way_ too much a worrywart about this stuff. And absolutely not keen on the supernatural, or the trouble he got into. 

Before the blond could so much as knock he was already ragged and worn from speeding down the stairs and threw open the door, looking confused but also somewhat eager with the curiosity that only these adventures and mysteries could cook up. “Bill!” He breathed out, “What uh...what are you _doing_ here?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The chipper attitude brought about suspicion, naturally as Bill Cipher made his way through town, mimicking an outdated film where a strangely perfect town and their perfect families trotted down sidewalks to scarily peppy music. The Corduroy Boys, who regularly avoided Cipher underneath their father’s warnings of him being a dangerous man, were even drawn into the radiating light. A sore, luxurious thumb in the mix of flannels and overalls, jewelry glittering from his fingers and wrists, a smile that was almost blinding. Impossible to miss. Impossible to forget. Almost the perfect representation of an old school mafia boss if it weren’t for, well, his mental state that managed to outshine appearance and charms all together. 

“Hey, kid!” Bill sung, spinning on his toe for the umpteenth time before he leaning up against the threshold, unable to put a halt to the bubbly laughter. If one didn’t know any better, it was as ridiculous as a school girl’s. “I’m here to announce that I’ve recently been hitched! An impossibility becoming a probability!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Well… _that_ was something. Bill? Bill Cipher? _Hitched?_ He stared at the other, that...weirdly out of place enthusiasm (which actually, the manic craziness was pretty normal, but this was just a whole new type of Bill Cipher he was _not_ used to seeing.) He squinted a bit. 

“Uhhh...congratulations?” He went ahead and tried. “I didn’t realize you were, you know...seeing someone?” He opened the door wider to let the other man in.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill squeezed inside, making sure to ruffle Dipper’s hair on the way in. He definitely wore a bright expression, delighted at his new life. “Oh _yes,_ Pine Tree. Me and Stanford have committed to a lifelong devotion to one another.” And underneath his breath, he whispered, _dont ask him about it,_ before piping up once more in great exaggeration. “Love is in the air! Oh how these feelings string along back my humanity! I’m _feelings things._ I could smell flowers! Skip! Murder! Except not because that’s illegal, ahahaha!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He made to automatically reposition his hat in the now mess of brown locks with an annoyed look, but paused, frown deepening as what Bill had just said...well, hit him. That and the murder part. Probably fine. That was probably fine. 

“Wait, hold on--hold on-- **_say that again?_ ** Stanford as...as in _Ford_ , as in… _that Ford?_ ” He asked, voice hitching a bit into a squeak of full throttle disbelief because...well, there was only _one_ Ford the two actually knew about. And communicated with. And _summoned_ . Because Ford was _a demon._ “Uh, have you drank a little bit too much non-decaffeinated Pitt soda because I...really don’t think that’s possible, Bill.” He gestured for the other to follow him upstairs after a quick back and forth look for any signs of his uncle. Maybe he was still out at the fishing dock working. One could only hope. Having strange older eccentric men would probably not bypass his helicopter parenting and he could only get away with “he’s tutoring me in classic literature” so many times before it became far too suspicious.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“What _other_ Ford could I be referring about? Gotta have your head twisted on wrong if you think I’d give any regular man or woman a chance in having my hand.” Bill popped his collar confidently, following along with a hop to the step, singing, whistling, the whole bundle that screamed to the world that _something wasn’t right if Bill Cipher was happy._ Last time he’s been even close to this mood was after exterminating a rat that had been munching on his plots of cucumbers outback. And meeting Ford, of course, but even this current display of happiness was reaching higher feats. “It’s possible. Every and anything is possible, kid. Remember that as a lesson from your dear ole pal. All Fordsy needs is a little culture shock, someone to guide his hand and tendrils around me, and I, in the most PG-13 way possible since I don’t even think you’re in high school yet—“ he inhaled, just to catch his breath, “—will return the same loving gesture. In a PG-13 manner.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Something definitely _was_ the matter if Bill was this happy. Was it right if it just felt...really unnatural? In a sort of horrifying kind of way? “Uuuuuuuh you realize you’re talking about an ancient all knowing _demon_ from another plane of existence, right?” Not that he was...well, one to talk about _that_ really. He did happen to summon Ford sometimes for...maybe not so important things. Or ideas like D, D, and more D. Hey, it was his favorite game! And it so happened to be the demon’s favorite game too. Could that actually be helped? 

He peered around like someone looking for something specific (just signs of his uncle really,) all the while guiding Bill up to his and Mabel’s room in the attic. He made a face at the next part, “Eugh, gross, I don’t want to hear that Bill. Or imagine it. Or think about it. In fact can we just delete that out of my brain?” He asked, a bit wryly, rolling his eyes as if praying to god above. “And you know I’m _sixteen._ ” Fifteen. He was fifteen. But close enough. “That’s like...already a teen. And definitely in high school...absolutely an adult. Hell, I know what sex is.” Sort of. In theory anyways. Man that was embarrassing. It was a good thing Bill couldn’t read his thoughts. 

The rest of the conversation seemed to have caught up with him then. “Wait, are you telling me you’re trying to _woo_ him?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The Pines home always felt homey. Another sense of comfort he found here, perhaps aided on by Dipper, a small replacement to something he once had, only much more naive and sympathetic. Also shorter, not that the little details mattered much. As Bill made his way to the attic, he couldn’t help but feel content at the sight of Mabel’s glittery and color vomiting side, stickers on the dresser and walls. Oh, she would be a heartache for sure when she grew older. An absolute character. 

“I’m pretty sure your old man already thinks I’m a predator trying to lure you into my basement.” Which he didn’t have, unfortunately so. Would make some things much easier. “Let’s cool it with the birds and the bees. I know that’s an exciting factor in your life, and all I have to tell you is to be safe, wrap it up, and _never_ stay the night. Leave right after. Think of me as some cool step-uncle who provides beer and condoms and whatever else people your age want. Is it coke? Because when I was sixteen, all we did was snort coke off the hood of my truck.” 

That explained plenty, actually. Bill was a little more rambly than usual. He couldn’t exactly help it either. When excited, there happened to be no stops. “I am. Don’t tell me you’re about to _judge_ my decision of attempting to _woo_ an ancient being who could rip my head off, are you?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Gross, god, Bill,” He shoved the other at the comments, though honestly absolutely zero of anything could be all that shocking to him these days in regards to the other. Even if he was still super perturbed. And...well, okay in most things about this town generally speaking. He may be terrified at times, fascinated even, but you could never color him shocked. “And I’m _pretty sure you’re right._ Uncle Fiddleford seems to think you’re going to cart me off in a beat up old van or something.” At the very least he was pretty sure the vehicle would probably be more stylish if nothing else. He gave the other a side glance as the man prattled off, clearly too excited and just shook his head in disbelief at just how insane the other sounded. “Yeah, your head, limbs, and just about everything else. Are you _crazy_ , Bill? No, no, hold on, don’t...don’t answer that.” He shook his hand at the other, waving off the question in some exasperation that they both already clearly knew the answer to. 

While Mabel’s side happened to be covered in glitter, stuffed unicorns and crafts, Dipper’s was entirely coated in graph papers, books, conspiracy boards (with string included) and even more graphs. A square window lay in front and behind them was still the massive chess piece they’d accidentally grown into the ceiling, a kind of...full on aesthetic at this point. Home sweet home.

He gestured toward a desk in the corner where Bill could grab a seat. “Seriously, I can’t...I can’t believe I’m actually hearing this. Scratch that, I don’t _want_ to be hearing this. You're going to get yourself _killed,_ man. I mean, can demons even...you know...is all of that even _possible?_ ” Dipper had never imagined a time where he’d feel sorry for a _demon_ but in this case he was all kinds of feeling it right now. Besides, he even had a....kind of weird friendship with Ford. A...you know, incalculable, weirdly undefinable mentor kind of thing. They even played D, D, and more D together. He had every right to at least pity the guy. Or...demon. Mass of writhing shadows. Something. Point was, this did not look to turn out well.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill had took the seat, positioning himself backwards in it as he continued to face Dipper with the need of confiding in his romantic troubles that were never romantic to begin with, and definitely aren’t being returned anytime soon. Persistence was key. 

“He won’t kill me,” Bill said, waving Dipper off, then added right after, “ _Intentionally._ ” At the next thing, he did raise a brow. It was a question that never popped up, but surely Ford would be willing to answer such a thing if he brought it to the table. An unwanted conversation, Bill was sure, but necessary in planting the pieces towards a healthy love life. Ah, yes, he was insane. There’s no doubt. “Sure it is. Probably. Maybe. We’re still working out these differences!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You don’t _even know?_ ” He pressed out in exasperation. “Dude, come on. Seriously? You’re going to get yourself killed. Like extra killed. Like...hellfire burning alive, gruesome lovecraftian kind of killed.” He jabbed a finger at the other, flopping down to sit against his bed across from Bill, feeling sort of like the adult in the situation somehow here. How that even happened was always beyond him, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Or the last, probably. “Can’t you just find a date somewhere here on the normal, mortal plane? I'm still 90% sure that absolutely none of this is possible _or_ makes literally _any kind of sense._ "

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I know! Isn’t it _exciting_ ?” Stars. Only stars in Bill Cipher’s eyes as Dipper Pines explained how his inevitable death would occur from playing with fire. He almost seemed to invite the tragic end, arms opened wide, though spoke like a twitterpated teenager. “Ohoho. Ha. Hee hoo. Kid, I’m pretty sure I’ve screwed half the state of Wisconsin. If I can have the majority of people of Lake Michigan in my bed and _still_ not find any compatibility, I’d say pursuing humans should be a thing in the past.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Also...also really didn’t need to know that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing at those bits of scarring images. Man this was...this was something _else_ , that was for sure. “Ugh. You know, fine, do whatever you want, just...try not to get in so deep you can’t get out again. I mean, he _is_ still a demon. As in biblical, probably.” Again, paging Mr. Dipper Hypocrisy Pines to the front of the house? Not that it was even _close_ to a cry of what Bill was talking about. Was a weird quasi friendship endless stream of curiosity really close to...geez, whatever kind of god awful mess _this_ was? “And it isn’t _exciting_ , it’s...hell, why am I even trying at this point. Just don’t die.” He pressed, peering up through his fingers. “I still feel like playing around with this guy is just all kinds of bad news, Bill. I mean he’s what, as old as time or something like that? Does not sound like a happy ending here for anyone involved.” _‘Probably me included at this point, heck just knowing my luck.’_

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Aw. Would you miss me if I died? I thought about leaving my riches to you once I ascend this realm into a higher, god-like power. I always appreciated your.. tolerance, I suppose.” That was one way of putting it. Bill wasn’t too sure why he was drawn into creating a friendship with Dipper. This was a teenager. Far out of his age range, probably couldn’t even relate to half the shit that left his mouth. But still. He remained. “Sure, but y’know what? I trust him. I don’t think he’ll hurt you. I wouldn’t let him either.” In whatever way his human body could possibly prevent that.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper laughed at that, surprisingly. He was...oddly touched by that somehow. Him and Bill had an odd dynamic, nothing short of that. Weird. Bizarre. Misunderstood. And honestly it wasn’t something that could be put into so many words. But Dipper actually appreciated it all the same. Hell, for all of this, he _liked_ Bill. “No, I uh, I’m not worried about that.” He assured the other, “I’m just worried about _you_ , man. How do you know he’s not going to like...I don’t know, zap you into some kind of weird hellscape or...eat you like a preying mantis or something? Have you at least...I don’t know. _Asked_ him about the uh...the practicalities of any of this?” He frowned then, scrutinizing something only he could see, “Is...is he even a _he_ ? Is that...do demons _have_ genders?” He shook his head with a groan, rubbing a hand to the hair beneath his hat. “This is so weird, man. So weird.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Don’t worry about all that. I know how to make a deal, cheat my way through a situation.” Not that he would, unless absolutely necessary. There’s.. genuine trust there, for Ford, for everything they could possibly give one another throughout their time together. No, he hadn’t expected to die. Not unless he raised a hand at Ford first, and that, for as long as he held the self-made title, would never happen. “I haven’t been corrected yet, so I’m sure I’m using the right pronouns here. I mean, have you seen what he has? Those tentacles? That’s a man if I ever seen one.” A joke, mostly. “Everything around here is weird. This is just icing on the cake by this point.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _UGH_ , god,” He laughed, “Gross, dude, seriously?” He shook his head in disbelief, flopping back into his bed with another groan. “Couldn’t you have just...I don’t know, gotten attracted to a gnome or something? At least that way there’s less...you know, horror demonic aspects to all of this. Maybe the multibear? Definitely less threat of horrific death in those options.” He admonished, only partly joking, shoving his hands at his face at just the absurdity of the situation. “Augh. You know, of every weird and impossible thing I’ve seen in this town Bill, I think _you_ take the cake. The entire thing, all of it. The whole thing, you’re the weirdest.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“A GNOME?” Bill’s exaggeration was comedic in itself, his eyes going wide, mouth twisted into an offended frown as hand pressed itself against his chest. He gave Dipper the stank eye, practically. “What am I supposed to do with these suggestions? They don’t even compare to what I have goin’ on now.” Ford was one of a kind definitely, a treasure he wouldn’t be capable of replacing. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Well. Sometimes.” _Mostly._

Bill’s face softened a second later, relaxing in his seat. “Soo..” he looked around. “Whatcha doing in here? Being a nerd? We need to fix that. Get you some coke, like I said.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

A leg managed to lift up to shove the other in the side roughly, though without any real force as he remained buried in his hands. “I’m not taking _coke,_ you weirdo.” He said between muffled hands, breaking them apart to give the other a still wry look. Not that he even knew _how_ to do that. The only time he’d even tried alcohol had been with Bill frankly. Also learned he was a lightweight. Extremely so. Sneaking home that night _had not been fun._ Fiddleford had practically glared him down with suspicion the whole of the next morning. “And hey, I don’t know! Hell, at least it’d be safer, that’s for sure. Aren’t there like, what, sirens in the lake or something too? I think mermaids. That’s...at least _logical._ ” In his mind it was anyways. Not...not that he thought about stuff like that. 

He sat up then, abandoning the attempts at finding answers to all of this mess in his palms and disheveled on his bed, sighing. “And I happened to have been reading and...you know, getting ready for my next game. Maybe decoding some stuff in that book.” He nodded towards the book he’d first discovered Ford in.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Sirens want to kill you,” Bill deadpanned, catching Dipper’s leg in the threat of yanking his body off the bed. The lighthearted mood had prevented him from roughhousing, as he certainly would throw the kid into a choke hold any other time, make him squeak, say uncle forty-three times before relenting. Today was different. He let go, smiling. “Ahhh. Very nice. Did you come up with anything? And by anything, I’m talking the more mundane aspects of the demonic lifestyle. Favorite foods, drinks, songs... which gives me the idea. You think he gives in to flattery? Gifts? Not my style, by hey, you look directly like some freak who’d get obsessing.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yeah, well...at least they’re not demonic.” He defended himself, huffing as Bill pulled at his leg somewhat. He could honestly say in full confidence he was glad that this hadn’t devolved into a usual round of rough housing uncle, though the turn from the normal was just _another_ addition on the weird cake that Bill had brought to him today. “What? No. I mean, well, yes. I mean, just...scripts and stuff, you know, written by the guy who made the book. He packed the _whole thing_ with just endless ciphers and codes like he was super paranoid about who read it. Or I don’t know, maybe Ford likes codes and stuff like that?” Despite the endless codes, Dipper didn’t sound entirely frustrated though. More like _fascinated._ Maybe because he _was_. Spending months cracking codes and mysteries? Yes, more of that, please. 

“Said some stuff about the futility of sacrificing the normal kind of things you apparently do to demons to Ford. You know, no goat blood or virgins or anything like that. Said it could probably get you killed, like it’d be an insult or something. The exact words were:

“In love and death and famine and strife, 

Over gods of sun and moon and earth, 

The demon that knows above all else is preferred 

A being of infinite wisdom lies here in this script 

Gifts of knowledge, ancient texts, trinkets to prove oneself 

Will never be rejected or disputed for those pure of learning 

But warnings rise for blood or pints, virgins, goats, animals, other sacrifice so beastly 

To compare him to other being will be demise 

To underestimate him will be your end 

Give into studies, learned, independent minds 

And he will light your path, to the risk of your own ends”

"Man, it doesn’t even rhyme, but whatever. Maybe the original translation is supposed to?” He shrugged. “Either way, there’s that...and just some...jiberish about some more symbols and things. I haven’t really gotten farther than that.” He admitted heavily, kicking himself up off the bed to go retrieve the book in question which had...maybe a hundred different notes slipped between the pages, much of it centering around said deciphering.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh.. so he has..” Morals? Might not be the correct word. The guy didn’t understand the simplistic, very generic flirting tricks Bill threw his way, nor the friendship he initially tried offering in the beginning of it all. It made Bill think, questions swarming, a list of things to hoard the demon with until he grew irritated or bored with the prying. Would he experience guilt for killing? Ever? Were there exceptions? Was it _possible_ for him to form an attachment to another being, if it all? Ford mentioned something about a brother, a sibling, crumbs of family that Bill assumed worked something similar to what he was accustomed to. If not, he would apologize, plead ignorance within the next breath. “Have you tried, y’know, just asking him? He probably wants something in return. That reminds me— don’t make any serious contracts with him. I doubt he would trick you, but still. Keep that in mind.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yeah, sounds like it. I mean, I...I guess? Like, most of this reads as if he has...I don’t know about morals, but _standards_ at least. Like big ones. It seems to highlight the fact he isn’t like other “lesser” demons, has his own...idea of things. Code, maybe. It also mentions something about treating intelligent life with...I don’t know, respect? Or something? More like standards, if they’re “deserving” of it. It’s all actually really fascinating. Kind of a mix match of warnings and ideas about him.” He flipped through the pages rather eagerly, going over some post it notes he’d placed along the entirety of it. “Apparently there’s a story about one guy that gained enough knowledge to take over a kingdom, but was killed by Ford when he wasted the knowledge by becoming idle and “listless, dimwitted, pigheaded,”...” He brought a pen up from the pile he kept on his desk (right beside the “used thinking-pen” pile of broken ones), bringing it to clasp and chew at between his teeth rather habitually in a distracted way, curiosity sparking in his focused expression. Before something occurred to him. He let out a sudden noise.

“Hey! But you know, if you just want to know about his hobbies and stuff, I already know one of them.” He had tipped the pen back out from between clenched teeth, grinning then. He dropped the big, ancient, handbound book at his bedside, scrambling up to the wall to snatch one of the graph papers off, returning to Bill’s side and shoving it his way. “It’s a character sheet! For a wizard class, see?” He grinned, feeling a bit...well, embarrassed wasn’t the right word. _Mortified_ on some distant level at admitting he’d convinced the demon to play with him, somewhere mixed in with his enthusiasm. Alright. Well, convinced wasn’t the right word. Enthusiastically found a life long _companion_ for the game with more like. “And I mean wow, he’s actually _really_ good. You wouldn’t believe the dungeons he creates. It’s a lot of fun actually.”

A frown formed on his lips at Bill’s warning however, hesitating. “Uh...right. No I haven’t made any deals. I don’t really...plan on that. He seems to just...be alright with guiding me sometimes? I think it’s kinda in his nature to want to guide people maybe?” He scratched at the back of his neck nervously. “But uh, what….exactly makes you say that? Kinda sounds foreboding.” And there was an edge of suspicion in his voice then, keeping his eyes on Bill.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The anti-climatic events leading after Dipper’s thorough explanation of Ford’s mindset was...surprising, to say the least, just to avoid throwing the kid’s interests into the garbage without any consideration, especially as it seemed Ford himself found interest in it. “Dungeons,” Bill repeated, flat, like the word hadn’t existed and was merely practicing the pronunciation. Wizard class. Character sheet. He glanced the paper over, unsure how to feel, but guessing from his stone cold expression, not too impressed. Though he forced a smile, an awkward, very awkward laugh to ease the situation. “This is.. pretty cool,” he offered lamely. “Glad you both have something in common.” 

Bill hummed, suddenly craving another drink from earlier. “He’s a demon, like you said. He might be my husband and a decent partner at.. whatever this is, but demon. Never fully trust a demon. Don’t be like me and try to bone one either. A recipe for disaster!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

His frown came more apparent then and he snorted, punching Bill in the shoulder and snatching his page back. “Well, hey come on, if you’re just going to patronize it!” He scoffed, “I mean, heck, maybe I get him to play enough games with me and you’ll lose interest.” A grin came back to him. Mood killer indeed. “Maybe that’ll be the goal. Me and him have enough fun together, he’s a nerd like me, becomes totally, 100% unpalatable to you. Crush gone, problem solved.” And he smoothed out the page as if it were something rather precious, voice joking and also proud in a humoring way. 

Bill’s next words were met with a very predictable eyeroll. “Christ, you do _not_ need to tell me that Bill. I literally have zero interest into things that are not human, I promise.” Human mostly as in Wendy. God, he really needed to get over that particular crush. Little hard for him, seriously, she still ranked _easily_ as the coolest person he’d ever met. Even years later. He could seriously kick himself. “You don’t go making deals with him either though, Bill...I mean seriously, from what I’ve read here in this book, it does _not_ sound good. Kind of one of those… “too good to be true” ideas? Careful what you wish for parables? From what I can decipher it really sounds almost as if the author paints it like he _means_ well, but uh, also sounds like the odds of going insane or getting _killed_ are right up there.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Ow.” It didn’t hurt, if only a smidge that caused discomfort. There was contemplation to return the blow at full force, but Bill decided against it to save Dipper the bruise. Though, there is a quick transition to some obvious jealousy. Not that he _needed_ to be, at all, but the maniac inside couldn’t hold back in finding this to be competitive at winning Ford’s favoritism. If such a thing was even real. “Sorry, Pine Tree. There’s no way he would ditch out to play some.. Dee of the Dee. Dumb and Dumber.” Sounds right. “And, uh. I won’t. I have no serious desires, only his hand in marriage.” And dominating every realm out there, crushing it beneath his heel. Not too serious, as he would put it.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Actually, we play like twice a week on the dot, Saturdays, Wednesdays, and then it gives us more time to create more of the campaign!” He said enthusiastically, nerding out in its entirety, only glancing up to then pause there on Bill’s form. 

Dipper scrutinized Bill for a brief moment, expression turning suddenly suspicious. “Hey, wait a second. You’re not…” He surveyed him dubiously for another long second, squinting then at the man. “You’re not... _jealous_ , are you?” And the words came in a certain level of very real disbelief, only just seeing the extent of them there as he spoke them like being hit across the face. He let out a loud groan, throwing his hands in the air, “You _are_ , aren’t you!? God, no, _no_ .” He shoved at the other, easily recognizing all the sulky, half spiteful looks from himself with Robby once upon a time and wondering just when _he_ had ended up the mature one. (Always. The answer here was always). 

“ _No,_ you cannot be serious. He’s a _demon_ , Bill! I mean, an interesting one, but...god. Ugh, you know what, why don’t you just...just _join_ us next time. You...massive weirdo.” Another light shove, albeit enough of them would most definitely probably reward him with a very real headlock and possibly noogie he’d have to fight to get out of. He turned and grabbed a loose graph sheet from his bed, “Look, I’ll even make a character sheet for you. But listen--” And he gave Bill a very hard look, “I _refuse_ to be your wingman. I refuse. You hear me? I’m not at all, even a little, not an _ounce_ supporting this. At all. Weird. You’re weird. And crazy.” All things that needn’t be said, honestly. He turned his eyes back to the sheet, snatching a pen to tap against his chin. “Now whaaat class should we make you.” And then, without glancing up added, “And _good_. Honestly, you don’t need it. From what I understand it’s basically impossible to go back when you make real deals with demons, Ford included.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Jealousy is such a strong word. A word that implies I, the most handsome, fashionable, and smartest man in the world would be in _any_ way concerned about losing Ford to you.” The explanation didn’t at all help his case. Then again, it’s not like he was worried about covering up the tracks, and this game, as nerdy as it seemed, might offer leeway into entering newfound territory with Ford. One where they get on _the next level of things._

Holding hands. 

“Pine Tree, with all due respect, I wouldn’t ask a coke-less teenager with a fetish for redheads to EVER be my wingman.” Cold, but there’s fondness in the words, particularly as he nudged the kid’s side in return with an elbow. “Buuuuut, if you could, y’know, put in a good word for me, you might be rewarded with something... legal, for a change.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Losing Ford to--” And he scowled, “You’re crazy. Nuts. Entirely insane.” All deadpanned and again needed not even be said, but he nudged the other back, glowering. “I’m--I don’t even know how to respond to this. I have no interest. You’re in the clear. Why do I even need to say this…He’s honestly just,” And he hesitated, looking confused for a moment. How _would_ he describe his and the demon’s relationship. “You know. Like...a demonic mentor...kinda friend. But kind of you know...terrifying. And could kill me any second.” Like playing with fire, but also D, D and more D all in the same cup. A mix there somewhere. 

And he let out a bit of a reproachful huff, looking a bit offended. “Hey. I’d make a good wingman.” He defended, even if it were entirely untrue. “Hell, I’d make a great one. How would you know?” And at the next part, huffing again and rolling his eyes. “What, come on. A good word? What the hell do you want me to say? “Hey, check out this...totally insane, handsome human here that you probably can’t even fathom an interest in. Hey, great dating material in the nethers of the dreamscape where you apparently exist, why not take him on a date there.”” He threw his arms out again in the fake conversation, as if to give it further emphasis. “Crazy, Bill. We still don’t even know if that’s like...even a thing that’s possible. For all we know he just doesn’t even reproduce or...or _feel_ those kinds of things, right? Or anything we can even comprehend.” He pinched his nose, “Why am I even arguing this.” It was pretty hopeless at this point anyways. “Let’s just make this character sheet.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“He has a brother,” Bill pointed out, conclusions to be drawn off the bat. He assumed they were made, maybe with parents, or birthed in the pits of hell or cosmos. Then again, what would _qualify_ the title of a brother? Coming from the same woman, or did they happen to come into life around the same time, in the same spot, and decided to adopt the label? Ford would be hoarded with questions, indeed. “Means he came from somewhere, someone. Some people need to be taught how to love. Like some cheesy movie script.” 

He glanced over the paper, mouth thinning into a fine line. “I don’t know what this is. Spent years cheating people out their wallets, but can’t say I sat down and created a character before.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“He has a _brother?_ ” Dipper asked, trying to mask some of the sheer disbelief and failing terribly. “Seriously? What? How have I never _heard_ about this.” Some jealousy of his own was peaking out there pretty clearly now, but it was entirely more on the lack of information when basically all Dipper did was obsess over all these details and consider himself something of an “expert” here after countless nights pouring over whatever information he could get his hands on. He grabbed the large ancient book at his bed, flipping through it rapidly as if trying to find something about it. “I haven’t read anything about that. How--what is--how is that even possible?” And he continued to flip over his notes, scrutinizing the pages uselessly, but paused enough to roll his eyes at mentions of cheesy movies. “Ugh, what, I guess that makes you Beauty and him The Beast? Except I think you’re more likely to trap _him_ in a belltower at this point.” 

He came to one of the pages he hadn’t deciphered yet, a swath of drawn and etched in details on symbols and circular imprints, left with a series of what were clearly notes, but jumbled, impossible to decode. He ran his hand over it in frustration. If he just knew what these symbols and circles _meant._ If he just knew the cipher to decode these notes. 

“You _are_ a character.” Dipper mumbled by the end of it, decidedly going back to flipping through the book before sighing and shutting it. “I have no idea what to do with this information. I’m going to have to do more research.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Don’t say anything about it. If you do, maybe ease your way into it. Not sure if he wanted me to say anything or not.” For all he knew, him and Ford could share the same boat with family issues, and that, as always, was never a great thing to dip into, regardless of who it was. “Special husband privilege, that’s why. That’s what happens when you’re in love. Your partner exposes their deepest lore over a bottle of exotic beverages.” 

Bill grinned, clearly satisfied he had information before Dipper could get his hands onto it. A win in his book. “I may be crazy, but I practice consent. I would never lock ‘em him up unless he was trying to murder us in some fit of rage.” Hopefully that would never go down. The funeral would be, well, very depressing and strange. “Heh. How’s it feel? Being fed this tid bit of info that changes basically everything? I’d say this calls for another celebration!” Not the best idea.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“No! _No._ No more celebrations.” Celebrations with Bill _always_ spelled trouble. Irrefutably. Indefinitely. It was practically a law of physics at this point and he always put mind to stay clear should he avoid whatever horrible nonsense sprung from it. “And man, you sound like my sister when she’s gotten a new love interest of the week.” He shook his head, “But fine, fine, I’ll...you know, stay clear. Or...ask with like...tact, just subtly or something.” He waved a hand somewhat listlessly at the idea. He _had_ to find out more though. He just had to. Demons having actual families, in any sort of parallel with what they had, would change _everything._ All his theories would be entirely put to waste. At the very least he’d need to pour over these books more. 

And he snorted then, rolling his eyes. “Right, right, sorry. Forgot you guys were already hitched. Maybe you can ask him about some of these other things about, you know, actual reproduction and emotions while you’re in such a… “unique” position.” He felt a sudden doubt that any negative responses from Ford would deter Bill at this point though. Maybe it’d even make him more stubborn about it all. Christ, this was already so weird. 

He sighed, getting up off his bed. “Well, if you’re going to play with us, you’ll need the rulebook. It’s a really fun game actually. Totally imaginative.” And he strolled to the other side of the room and gathered up a book that was quite possibly twice the size of the ancient one on his bed, lugging it over to drop into Bill’s arms. “There. You know, just have to peruse through that a little bit and it should be fine.” He said, entirely confidently, looking rather pleased.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“No doubt it will be a topic of conversation whenever I see him again.” Which, admittedly, could be later on tonight whenever he decided to fall asleep. Some journals were in need of restructure, Ford deserving his separate set entirely. Bill would document their time together. Each day, from the discussion, expressions, mood, body language. Everything would be properly jotted down, including the progress towards achieving the unachievable, exceeding the lengths of power that could even triumph over Ford’s. The only reason he snapped away from these thoughts was the sudden weight in his arms, gifting both the book and Dipper a look of bewilderment. “Why... is there so much for this geeky game?” 

He flipped it open, disinterested as he scanned the pages. “I don’t understand. Back in Ohio, I use to see people selling dice for this game. _Expensive,_ customizable dice sets that cost more than the watches on my wrists. Don’t even get me started about the.. er.. cosplayers. Yes, that word.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Come on, it’s fun.” He laughed lightly, taking the book from Bill. “It’s easy! See? First, you roll a 38-sided die to determine the level of each player's statistical analysis poweroid.” He explained, “These orbs relate directly to the amount of quadrants that your team has dominion over, which is inverse to the anti-quadrants in your quadrant satchel. But before any of that,” And he grinned, waving the graph paper at hand. “We make a _graph._ ” Math, science, imagination, complex and detailed character statistics, all into one. Mabel may have been right on some level calling it “homework, the game.” 

“And probably because it’s just...building your own universes together! Making whole stories, campiegns, and reacting to them and the events there in real time! The Dungeons Master is the one who runs the game behind the scenes. Creates all the plots and lore and things. So far, Ford’s been doing that, but he’s even letting me try next week. I’ve been staying up for _days_ trying to get everything together.” His grin seemed almost abash in his excitement, still looking far too eager and enthused, laying the graph out and jotting some things down. “First thing’s first, what class do you want to be? There’s 12 of them, uh, let’s see, it should all be in the book.” He began flipping the pages rapidly, until he’d found the section. “Okay...barbarian, bard, cleric, druid, fighter, monk, paladin, ranger, rogue, sorcerer, warlock and wizard.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Argh. 

The urge to ruin that childish wonder and curiosity and excitement was growing stronger and stronger as the moment continued, but even _Bill_ would feel bad entirely shutting Dipper down. He deserved someone to.. entertain this game, because he certainly hadn’t fit the part. In fact, the differences between both of them were always there, but certainly shined out as Dipper prattled on and on about.. orbs and whatnot. Bill’s teenage years, as previously stated, consisted of drug use, sex, and pretty long list of illegalities he would never admit to. 

All Dipper did was harmless nerd activities, aside from the more supernatural aspect of things. Even then, they’ve gained access to a being of infinite knowledge. All to play board games with. “Uh.” Bill took a second, trying his best to keep a smile. “Which one of those bends the fabric of time?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Uh….well, none of them.” He admitted, frowning as he flipped through the pages. “But there’s plenty of magic classes if that’s what you want! Wizard, Druid, Cleric, Paladin. Oh! Or maybe Warlock? Let’s see, “Warlocks receive their abilities through the influence of some unearthly being such as a Demon or Fey. They are either born with these powers or receive them through a fell pact, which turns their soul into a dark font of eldritch powers. Warlocks do not cast spells, but instead use spell-like abilities called "invocations", which represent the tapping of the power granted to the warlock.” He read aloud, “So not really time travel, but...you know.” His frown went line thin as he studied the page, “...Then again that whole...demon thing, uh, maybe...maybe too close to home.” He muttered, squinting at the page. Maybe a bit too close to encouraging such things too, thinking about it.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Warlock,” Bill decided on. “Too close to home? Hell, it needs to be _right on_ the dot! I’ll give him the name of Leviathan, inspired by when my whore of a mother sat me down, and told me, Bill, my sweet boy, one day you’ll be swallowed up by the seven princes of hell if you don’t stop calling your father a bastard during dinner.” He spoke lightheartedly, almost like he was happily reminiscent of those times. “What other things I gotta add to this? What, weaknesses? Likes? Dislikes?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Riiiight.” He replied dryly, eyeing the other. “But! Oh-hoh, there’s actually _so much more._ We’re just getting started.” He assured the other a little too jubilantly, “There’s still your equipment, race, skills, HP, and abilities, proficiencies, backstory, statistics, and all the different alignments...” He beamed as he began to list through them, but as he spoke slowly seemed to reconsider, his face falling slightly as he surveyed Bill rather more critically. Something was telling him the other wasn’t really...up to all of that. As much as it was, honestly, _such_ a great part of the game. “Um...though...maybe I should...just fill out all those details for you...most of its uh, based off a numeral factor. So, what you align to different things like charisma or strength affects your ability in the game.” He hesitantly began, considering it. 

“How about...you just focus on backstory and race? That’s probably fine.” He flipped through the book. “Okay...hmmmm...they’re rare, but maybe a Tiefling. Or a High Elf? Teiflings, I can hardly remember, let’s see…” He again searched the book, before letting out a triumphant sound, “Here! Okay, a once ancient human Empire of Bael Turath that was obsessed with “preserving and gaining power.” Rumors of their schemes and obsessions with power reached a realm called the Nine Hells and the devils there gave the running classes of Bael Turath visions while they slept, containing the directions for a grisly month-long ritual that would extend their rule into eternity, basically making them half breeds….” He squinted. “Yeah. You know what, High Elfs. Definitely. They are...definitely better.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Truthfully, yeah. The disinterest couldn’t be more apparent, even with his efforts of faux smiles and grins, scanning over everything in the brief confusion of it all. Bill would, however, eventually come to learn the game in order bond more with Ford and Dipper, hopefully simultaneously and hopefully enough time will be given in-between his working sessions after speaking with the demon. Though Bill’s interest is piqued occasionally. Here and there, as much as it could be. “Tiefling,” he repeated, face brightening at the description, a little too on the dot. “I think we reached the jackpot here, kid! Sounds like a perfect fit for Leviathan. Leviathan the Tiefling, destroyer of worlds, conqueror of dimensions, and a soft spot for peanut butter pies.” Eh, he would conjure up the details later. A backstory required some actual thought, but that worked for the general gist of it.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper actually laughed at that, and seemed to soften somewhat at Bill’s, whether attempted or not, enthusiasm. “Alright, alright. But only because you have an interesting backstory.” He shut his book. “That should be it. I’ll put together the rest of the sheet and you can come here on Wednesday to get started.” He scratched his chin, “Might be best if I put my campaign till Saturday, actually.” His grin remained distinct, thoughtful, “You’re gonna _love_ Ford’s Dungeon Master style. He’s really good at it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Ford is great at everything. Not surprised there. If only he was great at _something_ else, but beggars can’t be choosers! Remember that lesson.” _Lessons._ Rarely lessons at all, but clearly him trying to compensate for a loss of something in his own life. “What are you up to later, huh? Stalking that one girl? I was gonna let you in on a little, as I call it, _artistic freedom._ It requires a certain plant, paper, and some fire. I think it’s about time you experienced it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He rolled his eyes at that. It was still pretty much _just weird_ seeing how bad Bill had it for a knowledge demon. Definitely gave him “Mabel vibes”. “Right, sure, of course he is.” He sighed heavily before grimacing, “Augh, ah come on, _gross_ , Bill.” Again he scrunched his face, shoving the other with a snort. God. Right then he definitely didn’t even want to _imagine_ what this game night would be like. Maybe it had been...well, if anything not too wise to invite Bill. If just so he didn’t have front row seats to this train wreck. On the _other_ hand, it was also possible he could step in and interfere before the other got himself _killed._ He blinked before giving the other a somewhat suspicious side glance. “What…? A...plant? What are you talking about.” Yep. Sheltered, thy name was Pines.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Yes,_ a plant. A mystical plant that brings you great joy.” Another thing he could get arrested for. Was it illegal in this state? Bill never once researched his laws. In the grander scheme of things, he simply left it as a _’social construct made to restrict our potential’_ and whatever wordy metaphorical nonsense he could create within a five second timespan. “Are you interested? Afterwards, we can catch some greasy grub over at that diner I see these locals frequenting. I’m bored of buying my food from overseas. I’m ready to finally take a bite of what this place has to offer!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“A...mystical plant?” His tone was _definitely_ suspicious now, definitely cautious. “What, like, from the forest? Bill, this better not be like that unicorn hair.” He couldn’t move his arms for _weeks_ after that arm wrestling match with those things. And twice he'd had to call on Ford for more details on how to even find them in the first place. He rolled his eyes then, “Man. How have you _lived here_ and still not eaten in town? I swear you’re just as bad as Pacifica Northwest.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“It’s not like the unicorn hair,” Bill reassured, hands held up in surrender. “It did come from the forest, yes. I have some back at my place.” Ah, maybe he did sound like a predator trying to lure a teenager in. He felt uncomfortable for a brief second at the possible misinterpretation one would receive. But, you know, it would be hilarious to get the kid high. All suspicions could be postponed. 

“Don’t talk smack about my daughter.” Bill had never once spoken to the girl. Her father, on the other hand, happened to pester him every weekend for a game of golf. A pathetic attempt at creating a business partnership, or possibly stealing his wealth. Soon the man would come to learn that Bill was the least cooperative person imaginable, nor did he fit the role of a professional businessman. Maybe a shady salesman on the side of the road, but full blown professionalism? Ridiculous.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“And...what exactly does this “mystical plant” _do._ ” He asked, eyes narrowing, still _just_ as suspicious, feeling pretty certain there had to be a catch or something somewhere. If it _did_ sound like some contrived plot to murder him in Bill’s nonexistent basement, it didn’t occur to him. He knew Bill well enough to be avoiding of those kinds of worries or concerns altogether. He just snorted, before suddenly looking taken aback. “Hold on, wait, hold up, _daughter?_ Since when.” He demanded. “I thought that her dad was some...rich, snobby asshole or something.” He still sounded completely shocked, apparently taking Bill entirely seriously.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Are you saying you don’t trust me?” Bill shot back, fixing Dipper a look of judgement. Merely to make him feel bad, relent, and for them to be on their way to happy times. Another version of celebration, just more tame in comparison to sharing strange alcohol with demons. “He is! But I’ve adopted her,” he said, leaning over to jab an index finger against Dipper’s forehead. “In my _mind._ I’m sure that girl gets beat every Thursday or something. Who knows. We’ll find out when she kills her parents years from now.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Well, damn it. Dipper did glance off, a surge of guilt coming over him. “I--no, I mean. Come on, man. Sure, I trust you.” When it mattered anyways he did. Albeit the smart response would’ve still probably been _hell no_ and _never_ and ordinarily it would’ve been exactly that on any given day (and all with good reason). There was something about the tone Bill was using though that got at it him just enough to relent into something _slightly_ more serious. Just beneath the surface of it all, digging out a bit of guilt. Because honestly, come rain or snow, when it meant life and death he _did_ actually trust Bill. 

Fortunately the next part seemed to lighten him more up again and he scoffed. “What? Oh come on. In your mind? What, are you just..collecting kids to adopt now? I guess not that Pacifica doesn’t need it.” Did...that make him a kid to adopt? He honestly didn’t know anymore. If anything Bill seemed more like some...weird crazy uncle or a way older brother or something.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“If you trust me, then follow along.” Bill stood, smiling, stretching out his arms. The watches around his wrist clanked together— who needed _two_ watches? Clearly someone who didn’t know where else to put their money. “Look. I’m not intentionally trying to gather you social rejects up, but right now I don’t have any kids. Don’t plan on it either until I reach my early forties. I gotta practice my fatherly ways.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He hesitated for a moment, before rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah...I mean, alright. I guess so.” Trusting Bill. He guessed he’d see where _this_ led to. How bad could it be, right? 

He got to his feet, adjusting his cap on automatic. “So back to your place, huh? Isn’t it still like a mansion or something.” And then he grinned then, snorting, “Oh sure. Yeah. Makes sense. Didn’t you say you were going to marry Ford? Who knows, maybe you’ll have some kind of...half demon babies. God.” He cringed abruptly, regret suddenly in his voice. “Why did I even bring that up? I _do not_ want to imagine what you two would even make. Ugh, I did it again. God. No.” He pressed his hands to eyeballs as if to crush them. “Make the images stop.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

With that, Bill made his way out the bedroom, passing one last look to Mabel’s side. Damn. He could learn a thing or two on tacky decoration, a mess of pinks and sparkles. It’s capable of being replicated into his own style, his own twist on the whole thing. Thoughts of renovation gets put to a halt as Dipper continued speaking, bringing about a new set of ideas. He rubbed his chin. “I can’t get pregnant. Are you saying Ford can? Unless demons.. have this other way of merging their DNA. I can barely get a hug outta the guy, not sure if he would let me penetrate him. That’s _if_ he could pop out hellish spawns. A lovely thought nonetheless, Pine Tree. Thank you for the contribution.” 

It’s all said terrifyingly _casually_ as he made his way down, a swagger to his stride.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“UGH! BILL!” He hollered, throwing his hands against his ears and groaning. “That was _so unnecessary._ ” Why, just _why_ did he have to feed into this. Even if, on the scientific side, the idea of any demon reproducing was actually entirely fascinating, it _definitely did not apply in this light._ God. He’d need to burn his eyes out after this just to get that image the other put there out of his head. God, it was still there. 

All the same he was following right after the other. In a second’s hesitation and thought, he decidedly grabbed the large and giant bound book of Ford’s, just in case. Maybe he could compare it again to Bill’s second book, note the differences, heck, maybe Bill would even let him borrow his one day ( _fat chance_ .) He hurried down toward the main room after the other. “I need to be back before eight though Bill or uncle Fiddleford is going to _kill me._ Seriously, he flips out when I go to the store on my own.” He sighed at the thought, dipping his hands (perhaps unwisely) from where they’d been clamped at his ears now back to his sides.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Billll,_ ” He mimicked, voice high-pitched and nasally. “ _Stop talking about sex! This repulsion totally isn’t influenced by society’s obsession with purity or anything! I’m an unbiased individual not at all the product of my controlled environment!_ ” Bill snorted, casting a look around the home, noting the family portraits as he opened up the front door, holding it open for the other. “Don’t worry about it. Live a little.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Will you knock it off.” He scowled, shifting the book under his arm, “Man, there’s no way it’s normal to…not want to imagine _that._ ” He grimaced, “Ugh. Especially with _Stanford._ ” And he glanced around downstairs then, looking nervous as he strained to hear his uncle. Good. Nothing so far. “I mean, it should be fine...I’ll just call him and say I’m staying with a friend. Mabel’s having a sleepover tonight with her friends so...you know. Fair’s fair.” He did shoot the other a blatant look as he held the door open for him, but went outside either way.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Know what? Fine. I’ll keep the birds and bees to a close, for good.” For the minimum of thirty minutes until Stanford was brought into the equation again. He barked out a laugh, slapping the back of Dipper’s back as he nudged him forward. “That’s the spirit! Lying to your guardian! Now _that’s_ the teenage lifestyle.” 

Bill’s place was located a little deeper in the town, mostly due to the size, far off back just before hitting Meat Cute, and decent ways away from where Melody lived. Not that he ever knew her name, but she was nice enough to offer him a lasagna and potato salad on his first week here. So for that, he tried his best to avoid mentally scarring the woman for life, especially since her partner in question was... not the best choice. A matter of personal opinion. 

The manor itself struck modern, a contrast in the otherwise old fashioned and wooden cutouts the townspeople resided in. Large gates, a garden out front where he attended his surprising success of lilies and peonies. Gardening was only a distraction from other urges, but that was a conversation for another day. 

He fished for his keys once at the door, revealing a home of cream colored walls, marble floors and bland, white furniture. Nothing that matched his personality aside from the mess in the living room atop the coffee table.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Yes_ , please do.” Dipper practically begged, striding out into the open, clean air. God. He was pretty sure it’d be _maybe_ thirty minutes at most. Five would be impressive. He shot back an awkward, uneasy look, suddenly not feeling quite so good about Bill’s enthusiasm for the deceit. “I--yeah, well. I mean...hey, it’s not _really_ lying. You are _technically_ my friend.” Just...not the one he’d be pretending he was. Okay, _bending_ the truth maybe was more accurate. 

Dipper just listened to Bill mostly throughout the car ride, putting in jibes or specific comments here and there as they drove. 

Gravity Falls was still beautiful, that couldn’t be denied, but for the most part he had his nose in the giant book in question, working over old codes and flipping off through the pages the entire way. As soon as they pulled up however he glanced up and did a double take. “Holy hell.” He whispered, staring at the scenery. “Dude, are you sure you’re not related to the Northwests?” He glanced around as he finally opened his car door and strode on after Bill, letting out a low whistle. 

The grounds were impressive, though nothing compared to the inside. Maybe not _quite_ as fancy as Pacifica’s place, but still pretty damn impressive. His eyes traveled over the marble floors and far too white decor. “Huh...you sure this is your house and we didn’t just break into someone else's?” He asked, voice somewhat on sarcasm as he squinted off at a particularly strange looking piece of decor that definitely didn’t really scream “Bill Cipher” to him. “Like a vacation home or something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rex: Yo alright I had _no where_ to feasibly cut this off because we just kinda transitioned into the next scene. So uh. Yeah. Here's this and then the next chapter which will just be Bill dubiously introducing Dipper to weed and magic fairy dust LSD.


	3. Sex, Drugs, and Fairy Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LSD and weed are great bonding ideas, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rex: Hey so, just a reminder once again that this is a fast paced mostly improved RP, meaning sometimes things get a bit wonky, lost or switched up along the way. I'll try to catch it all in editing, but I miss stuff occasionally. 
> 
> The weed in this chapter is laced with "fairy dust" LSD kinda nonsense. We wrote this at like 3AM honestly, so take it with the grain of salt that is required lol. 
> 
> Also! For side clarity: Dipper and Mabel's parents passed away maybe two years back and they moved in with Fiddleford, their godfather (who they call their uncle.) Fidd's age is also different here, he's definitely younger (regular uncle vs. great uncle). I'll try to like keep track of things but you know how it goes with RPs, sometimes a few things get shifted about here and there as the story unfolds. Feel free to ask questions and I'll get on it when I can. Oh, and sometimes chapters too will end or switch up abruptly. Such is the RP life.

“ _Yes_ , please do.” Dipper practically begged, striding out into the open, clean air. God. He was pretty sure it’d be _maybe_ thirty minutes at most. Five would be impressive. He shot back an awkward, uneasy look, suddenly not feeling quite so good about Bill’s enthusiasm for the deceit. “I--yeah, well. I mean...hey, it’s not _really_ lying. You are _technically_ my friend.” Just...not the one he’d be pretending he was. Okay, _bending_ the truth maybe was more accurate. 

Dipper just listened to Bill mostly throughout the car ride, putting in jibes or specific comments here and there as they drove. 

Gravity Falls was still beautiful, that couldn’t be denied, but for the most part he had his nose in the giant book in question, working over old codes and flipping off through the pages the entire way. As soon as they pulled up however he glanced up and did a double take. “Holy hell.” He whispered, staring at the scenery. “Dude, are you sure you’re not related to the Northwests?” He glanced around as he finally opened his car door and strode on after Bill, letting out a low whistle. 

The grounds were impressive, though nothing compared to the inside. Maybe not _quite_ as fancy as Pacifica’s place, but still pretty damn impressive. His eyes traveled over the marble floors and far too white decor. “Huh...you sure this is your house and we didn’t just break into someone else's?” He asked, voice somewhat on sarcasm as he squinted off at a particularly strange looking piece of decor that definitely didn’t really scream “Bill Cipher” to him. “Like a vacation home or something?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’d be a murderer if I was,” came the muttered reply, somewhat bitterly. He placed the keys on their hook, shutting the door right behind Dipper. “Oh, it’s mine alright. All mine.” 

For the most part, it’s stereotypical rich in all the generic ways possible. Portraits of scenery, such as waterfalls and forests and mountains were the only thing dressing the walls, a cabinet of expensive liquors contained behind a glass door. Untouched, mostly. Drinking came here and there. It’s the exact thing he walked on over to, pulling out a drawer and retrieving a wooden casing, a little baggy hidden within it. “Ta-da. Here it is. The mystical of mystics. Ready to experience something great?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper just rose a brow at the muttered words, but didn’t press right then. Who knew what Bill was referring to, maybe he had some deeper beef with the Northwests? He mulled on asking Bill more about it later. Maybe... “Man, I guess I just expected...I don’t know. More...like chaos, I guess. Maybe a real giraffe in the living room. I don’t know, a ball pit. More gold. Some fire?” He surveyed the space, feeling weirdly a little under dressed for the occasion before glancing over as Bill pulled out a bag of some kind. He eyed it suspiciously. 

“Man, this isn’t going to...make me grow another head or something is it?” He asked dubiously. A part of him was...kind of nervous it was some kind of street drug. Another part of him was getting more and more suspicious it was not even remotely magical. He may be sheltered, and horribly naive on the topics in general, but he’d also gone to a public school and the things kids did there were sometimes...obvious, to be put lightly. Could always be whatever they smoked. "This better not be laced with coke or something." He warned and honestly would bite the embarrassment of not knowing much of that world altogether aside from a few choice coin words involving the subject.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Chaotic in the streets, a gentleman in the sheets. Keep your destructive tendencies outside your abode, next life lesson.” One he learned the difficult way. Bill turned, placing the container back into the cabinet, beginning to rifle around for something else. Ah. A small vial, filled with glittery dust. He beamed at the discovery, relieved he hadn’t misplaced the damn thing. “Another thing is to ensure you give off the facade of normality to those who matter. People here already know I’m bonkers, but if you break in here, you won’t find much out in the open.” Aside from, again, the papers of his researches left splayed on the table. It could be looked over for now. 

“No no, calm down. I’m not out to bully you today.” Yeah, _today._ “Take a seat, get comfortable. My home is yours, kid.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I’ll keep all that in mind.” He responded, before striding over to one of the sofas and looking down on it. It felt...weird just sitting on the thing. It looked more like art than for sitting. All the same he settled down, still holding the book, for all but a second before his eyes finally strayed off and found Bill’s research. Suddenly he perked up, for the first time since entering looking excited. “Hey, is that--” He was back on his feet, curiosity taking over as he started toward the papers, clearly drawn to them. “Is this all about Ford...?” He asked, eager fascination brimming even deeper at the sight of anything research related. He _had_ to know what Bill had found out, and honestly he’d do just about anything to get his hands on that other book. Could it be a companion piece to his? Maybe even a second book altogether that continued off this one…? He didn’t see what Bill was messing with but beamed as he started rifling through the papers.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Some.” Most contained information over the recent abnormalities in the forest, an increase of supernatural. Maybe only he took notice, but he’s yet to bring it attention in a conversation. One page, unfinished, held a sketch of a tall lanky black figure he saw a few days ago. It only came once, then left, leaving behind a strange feeling in the air, but for whatever reason, Bill believed that was the last time he would ever see it. There’s not much marked for notes on that page, aside from: 

_”I felt it was here for me. Is that weird?”_

However, there _is_ a page about Ford. Unfinished like the rest, the expected sketching of his body and face. Though for information, not much that Dipper hadn’t already known. It needed updating. 

Bill sauntered on over, clearing one side of the table as he set down the essentials. Rolling paper, the “mystical” plant in a small ziplock, and a vial of what seemed to be pixie dust. He got to work, splaying out the paper before littering bits of the green bunches, a hint of dust right after. “What? Want me to tell you some stuff about him?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Wow…” Dipper breathed, laughing slightly as he enthused over the pages. “Bill, this is _amazing_ . I didn’t know you documented all of this so well.” Rather than be excited for any insane “magical plant” or anything of the sort, the papers and work of the other’s seemed like _more_ than enough of a drug for the teen. He was already piling through all of it, looking entirely captured in by the documents. 

“Holy crap, you think the paranormal stuff is on the rise in the forest?” He asked far too eagerly, “Dude, what, we absolutely _have_ to investigate that! God, you know, I have a journal I use just like this for all my own supernatural experiences? We _have to_ compare more notes, man.” He’d already showed Bill quite a bit of his own research whenever the two ran into each other, but this felt different somehow. Bill was actually… _organized._ And he paused on Ford’s page, frowning a bit at the entry. He was...well, actually kinda surprised not to find some weird diary confessions on the entry, to be frank. Or luder images (which he wasn’t sure was even possible with the demon, but it just seemed possible either way when it involved Bill.)

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Go deep enough and you’ll see.” There’s a calmness to his voice, normal. Lacking the usual off-putting nature he wore. It was comfort, if he were ever asked the reason for the shift, a faint smile on his face at the admiration he received. “Sure. We can. I’m always up for an adventure.” 

Thankfully most of the notes didn’t go _too_ deep into not-safe-for-work territory, but there definitely are scribbled hearts around the demon, and he _definitely_ was drawn more handsome than he actually was. Bill rolled the paper, soon handing Dipper over a perfectly fixed joint. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, an illuminati triangle emblazoned over the exterior.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“What, seriously? Dude, I’d _love_ that.” He beamed, and had to laugh at finally noticing the hearts. “Geez man, you really have it bad, don’t you.” He chuckled before his eyes tracked up as the blunt was handed to him. The teen hesitated, seeming reluctant to put all the notes and research down. “Uh...you’re...sure this is safe, right?” His voice definitely held a lot of caution to it, gently taking the thing as if there was a chance it would suddenly catch fire. “And it doesn’t… _actually_ have coke in it, _right_.” The suspicion came back there in his tone then and as well the wariness of his look to the other.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hey now. Until you get over that red headed hick down the road, I don’t want to hear any judgement.” Bill chuckled, fixing his own. He had slid the lighter over to Dipper, encouraging, probably the one person parents warned their children to stray from. He hadn’t deemed this necessarily as peer pressure. You know. Just a little push into the more wild side. “Promise it’s safe. No coke. I don’t even have coke on me.” That’s a lie. Dipper didn’t need to know that, though.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper’s face turned at the comment, “ _Hey_ . Wendy is cool. Like _hella_ cool. Seriously, if you tried, you’d really like her.” He prodded, defending her instantly. Despite the massive crush she also happened to like...basically one of his best friends these days. He hesitated and took the lighter. “Alright, well...okay. Not that I believe that last part.” He was sure Bill had to have some stashed somewhere with the rest of god knew what. He gave in reluctantly to it and began to flip at it. Once. Twice. It was obvious he’d never worked with a lighter like this before and seemed to struggle a bit with the wheel, wincing at the pain it caused a thumb unused to the edges as he did. “...Okay seriously, how do you work this thing.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You’re hilarious. No thanks. I can only handle two annoying kids at the moment.” Bill watched in amusement, judgmental, mouth flattened into a line. It was reminiscent at his first use of a lighter, so for that, he spared the jabs for now. “Gotta press down on the wheel as you flick it. Better learn quick or your thumb is about to feel uncomfortable.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“My thumb is already feeling “uncomfortable.”” He muttered under his breath but did as Bill said. Again, he struggled, feeling as if this thing were some kind of ridiculous unsolvable rubix cube that stabbed you every time you failed with it. He scowled, frustrated, before abruptly with a quicker movement a flame appeared. “ _Hah!_ ” He grinned, triumphant. Take _that_ sadistic rubix cube lighter. “God, why don’t they make these things easier to work with?” He asked with a slight laugh, shaking his head before hesitating suddenly. Giving both the lighter and the blunt a confused, uncertain look and...for reasons he wasn’t even sure of, began to feel embarrassed. “Uh...also what uh…?” He kind of just put the flame onto the end of the blunt, leaving it like that.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“That _is_ easier to work with, you foolish little fetus, you.” What a teaching moment. He supposed a good figure would snap a shot of this moment, then display it on the refrigerator for safe sentimental keeping. Though Bill was sure that was reserved only for birthdays, graduations, and baby pictures. He waited a second, at least until the blunt fully lit before he reached out, making a gesture. “Alright, my turn. All you gotta do is suck on that joint there— the _smoke._ You aren’t tryna vacuum everything inside out. Also make sure you inhale! Then hold it for a second before exhaling. Don’t keep the smoke in your mouth like an idiot.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Thanks, dad.” He said sarcastically, but the jibe felt a little weird. Like he’d be doing anything like this with like...well, literally anyone else but Wendy and her gang. Honestly it had always been a toss up between either Bill or them; weird illicit substances that was. Still he eyed the thing, squinting at it as if it were some kind of potential poison, or it may come to life and snap out at his fingers. He hesitantly brought it to his mouth before sucking in some air, unsure of even what the idea was behind it. 

_Instantly_ his eyes watered, a horrible, thick burning sensation flooding through to his lungs. He spluttered, nearly dropping the blunt and coughed loud and hard, waving a hand at the smoke as he tried to get ahold of himself. “Wh--” He broke out coughing hard again, practically choking, “Wha-what the hell _was_ that--”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill was already lighting his up without a worry, in comparison not struggling with keeping the smoke down. Only when he exhaled, had streams of smoke left his nostrils without issue. “It’s fine,” he coaxed, sitting back, crossing a leg over the other casually. One hit already caused a faint array of colors to appear in the room, circling and bending. “You aren’t use to smoking. That’s how everyone starts out. Take a second and try again. No need to rush it, Pine Tree.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He kinda tossed Bill a bit of a glare at that. It was pretty obvious in some regards this was some kinda illicit drug they were doing here. Whether or not it was actually from the forest or somehow magical was debatable. Knowing Bill, it might even be both. Who really knew. Still, he looked at the blunt, throat raw and scratchy, the burning feeling of smoke still in his lungs and definitely not close to comfortable. “Seriously. Why do people _do_ stuff like this?” He muttered, but hastily brought it back to his lips and tried again regardless, albeit a little more hesitant this time. 

Hesitance did nothing for how it felt and as if to reject it his body convulsed back into slight coughs which the teen did his best to ride out. Damn it all. He breathed it in a bit slower, before giving back into the urge and just coughing openly all over again, eyes watering. 

It was then that….something started to happen as he gave up on trying a third time. Something...weird. He frowned, glancing with a brow raised in Bill’s direction as if somehow he were seeing it too. “Uh…” And back to the room at large, noting first the hazy feeling that seemed to sweep over him, tingling over every nerve of his body. And, second...colors? “Is the room supposed to be wavy like that.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Shh. _Shh._ Let it flow.” From the way Bill’s eyes were tracking... whatever it was in the air that was so interesting, it’s safe to say the effects were having an immediate impact on him. And soon, Dipper would experience such a thing— the walls and furniture seeming to _drip,_ melt, muddying into one another with ripples and waves that were disturbed by the slightest movement. Upon further inspection would confirm that Bill’s place was indeed not turning into a pile of mush, but the hallucinations themselves were as realistic as it got. Everything itself had brightened, flowers blossoming into the corners of the ceiling, bouncing cartoonishly to a nonexistent tune. A glance back at Bill, well. His skin was a multitude of colors, his laugh echoey, sounding far, as if down a long hallway.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Uuuuuuuuuuuuuh._ ” Dipper looked around hastily, suddenly sinking into the sofa and _definitely_ putting the blunt down wherever seemed safest. He located some kind of ashtray for it, hastily staring at it as it began to melt. Wait... _melt???_

He stared. And stared some more. “Ummmmm. Bill?” He asked weakly, but kinda just forced himself to pull back to the sofa as if it were honestly the only thing keeping him grounded anymore. 

Were...was everything _melting?_ It all felt so distant suddenly. Like being ripped into another dimension, even his body felt… _weird_. Weird. Numb or...detached or...alien, like rubber somehow? This was weird. Maybe terrifying. He hadn’t...really decided yet? Somewhere in that area.

His anxiety was already starting to get to him then at the thought and he winced at the echo of Bill’s laughter, heart picking up as his control abruptly seemed to slip through his fingers, fleeting from him.

‘ _No, alright. It’s okay Dipper, just...just breathe. Just...you know! Don’t think so much. Calm down. Don’t think, don’t think, it’s fine...totally fine. Bill said it was safe, this is just...whatever it is...just_ **_don’t think_ _about it_** _'_

Dipper thought. And thought and thought and thought and _thought,_ all of the ideas of it spiraling around inside of him, taking through him in time with the sudden more severe shift in changes. The rampant ideas and fears and words in his head gaining traction, mixing in with the total disorientation and melting of the world, the clutching, suffocating fear overwhelming that he was _not_ in control, and things were _not_ fine already all coming over him as things went from trippy to _downright impossible._

He felt so alien, so weird, almost as if he were floating, or falling maybe, and shut his eyes hard at the sensations, trying with no use to block it out. Because even there, things seemed to take on a color and a life of their own, drowning him. “Oh god.” He whispered, clutching at the seat cushions and _praying_ to find some kind of grounding as it all continued to slip past him as the world continued do whatever the hell it wanted, as the full impact of it began to hit him and his absolute zero tolerance for the drugs.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s laughter probably wasn’t mediating the situation. Especially as he stood, distorted voice saying, _“hey kid! hey, check this out!”_ to which he proceeded to grow multiple arms. In reality, he was only holding his elbow, making strange finger movements. Bill himself didn’t feel apart of the world anymore, and, if he hadn’t known any better, would hop off the roof at an attempt of flying. “You see that?” He asked suddenly, directing his attention towards the ceiling. “All those... Fords. Eating cotton candy with president Lincoln. What are they talking about? Abolishing slavery? Wait, no, this isn’t the 1860s.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper chanced a look at Bill, regretting it immediately. “Holy--Bill, what the _hell_ .” He squeaked, horrified, eyes wide as he stared at Bill’s multiple arms. “Okay this is..that is...this is _definitely not real._ ” He concluded, in the absolute stupid obvious, before the rest of what Bill said caught up with him...and in the pit of anxiety, that twist of free falling panic, in the clutch of sheer uncontrolled suffocation that caught up around his chest...he suddenly laughed. 

He laughed, shaking and snickering into a hand, tears springing back to his eyes. “W-what? Ford with...Lincoln? Cotton candy?” He fell back against...what was it now? What? Some kind of...horrible black thing he didn’t want to look at. He kept laughing. “Does--is that...does Ford even like cotton candy? Is that...is that real? Do demons even eat?” He snickered, not sure if he wanted to throw up, scream his head off or keep laughing. It was almost like being on a roller coaster. Moments where you were thrown and jerks and wanted to all of god to _get off right now_ and other free falling seconds where the thrill of it came over you and for even just a _second_ the chaos and horror of it all seemed almost...thrilling. Kind of. Mostly terrifying. And vomit inducing. And _horribly anxiety ridden._ He tried to grasp back onto something else, anything to keep away from the darker aspects of the metaphorical ride.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill glanced at Dipper, staring silently before breaking out into a fit of laughter along with him. He held his stomach, a tear pricking at his eye, unable to contain himself as the Ford above him said something. In general Cipher’s laugh was manic, everywhere and the pinnacle of insanity, but there’s an odd sense of wholesomeness if you could look past him smoking marijuana and fairy dust with a teenager. He fell back, missing the couch and falling right on his tailbone. Still laughing. Now on the floor, rolling around in what he interpreted as a pool of white chocolate. “Demons got teeth, don’t they! They EAT! They eat everything! They’re going to eat US, kid!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper couldn’t help getting caught into Bill’s laughter, finding himself keeling over slightly in it too. Despite the insanity of the other’s laugh, it had been long since it had bothered him, since he’d adapted in such a way where the tone of it didn’t terrify him. If nothing else, maybe it was even comforting to have the familiarity of the voice and tone _there_ with him in this madness. “G-God, what the fuck.” He laughed even harder, falling onto the sofa and snickering. He tried to make out Bill, but he seemed to be out of focus, just a spiral of colors and lights and arms. “M-M-Man, don’t say that, Ford wouldn’t eat us.” He tensed at the thought and words though, trying to beat back sudden surge of frantic panicked images and thoughts of the demon curling up from the floor, unhinging his maw and devouring them. The colors around them went dark and he felt suddenly horrified, the shift in emotions daunting and overwhelming. God. “He’s...like, you know...I don’t know. But that doesn’t sound like him. Unless like, I dunno we pissed him off.” He waved vaguely, trying to sound sure of himself, trying not to fall back into this sharp space of panic. “And-and if he tries...I don’t know, don't you have a thing for him-- _you_ do something.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Profanity!” Bill exclaimed, more of an announcement than an outright scolding. He had went on a tangent to Dipper before about the use of it, another rant of “social constructs” and how such words shouldn’t be restricted because old geezers deemed it as inappropriate. Bill rolled on his side, blindly reaching for the paper that had Ford’s sketch on it. In the moment it was alive, blinking and looking around, a bit more in-character to say the least. It regarded Bill with a blank expression, some curiosity present. “Fordsy.. would _neeeeever._ No no. See, listen. Are listening? Are you listening to me, kid? Put that atomic bomb down and listen—“ clearly they were both witnessing different things. The longer under the influence, the more intense everything came to be. “—we are _in love._ I’m gonna go to the tattoo parlor right NOW and get him on my.. on my eyeball. Right on the pupil, so I can see him everyday of the week!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You are fucking insane, Bill.” He groaned loudly, again with said profanity, throwing his arms over his eyes to block out the weird crap that was thrusting through and over him. Something mixing with aliens, a thousand streaming colors, demons that edged the corners and a whole galaxy that ate the ceiling. It was so overwhelming, so _entirely_ too much, so **_vast_ ** that he had to shut his eyes against it rather than get sucked into it all and lose himself forever. He felt like the open galaxies would swallow him, devour him, that he’d never return, never come back, always falling up, up, up, _up._

God. 

“No, right, of course not. Look, just...you know. Be like...just be careful.” He muttered feverishly, pressing his arms harder at his eyes before letting out a huff, “God aren’t you supposed to do _rings_ , not...not tattoos. Tattoos are weird, Bill, like...you know, biker with ten girlfriends weird.” He commented off hand, desperate to hold onto his words even as they seemed to escape him, even as they too seemed to want to melt away.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“... _Why_ do bikers have so many girlfriends?” An easy switch in subject, an easy chance of averting his attention from a horrible decision that couldn’t be followed through to begin with. Unlike Dipper, Bill accepted this fate, welcoming the strange blends of realities with open arms. Quite literally, extending his arms up in the air as an angelic figure lowered, sprinkling halos over his body with a heavenly song. He simply smiled, indulging freely. “I have so much energy. So much. I don’t even know what to do with myself.” 

Usually he passed out vomiting. That or devouring everything within the kitchen, something he assumed Dipper would be doing a few minutes from now. The aftereffect of nausea and intense hunger pains were an odd mix. Not deadly. That’s all that mattered.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Where Bill seemed to have endless energy and allow himself to fall into that chaos, Dipper’s only made the fear and terror of this insanity all the worse, all the more fierce. “I think...I’m going to puke.” He informed the other in another desperate groan, gritting down as his teeth felt as if they were falling into dust, a sudden terror that they may _actually_ fall right out coming over him then. He squashed an urge to yell at the thought. 

Even with closed eyes the world spun, and a...strange sort of kaleidoscope of lsd colors flooded his vision then, crawling and prying out from his unconscious. Images dancing as if pulling apart in multiple layers of his mind, and even beyond it, unweaving, untangling, a mess of beauty and terror, a stream of beings and creatures unimaginable. Lights and ideas. Thoughts that weren’t his own. Dipper felt as if they could reach out and touch him, but not with his mind, not with his touch, with his _spirit_. 

Did demons communicate this way? Did they live in the world? Here, in the multicolored lights among the black, in this dark? Maybe...maybe this was the dreamscape. Maybe by taking whatever they had, smoking whatever they had, they had bridged something so real, so fundamental, they could communicate, see in ways that weren’t otherwise possible. Maybe their souls could reach out and _speak._

He found some bizarre comfort in the ideas, in any sense of logic, in the thoughts and reflections, even as the terrifying reality seemed to swath over him everywhere else at once, muscles all staying perfectly clenched, panicked and isolated in the security of his sleeves and arms to block out the real world around. 

“Do you...do you think we can talk to Ford like this? Or his brother?” He asked abruptly, as if Bill could read his thoughts. Had he? Could Bill see these things too? “Maybe...maybe we can talk to them now, when we’re here. Like...between worlds.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper’s words took a decent moment to register. The angels stroking his face, sweet talking him in languages that made no sense, merely a mess of gibberish, happened to be a priority. “...I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, giving it some thought. He leaned into the touch of the angel, in reality only pressing his face against the cold floor, nuzzling it affectionately in belief it’s a soft palm. “If I could, I don’t think I’d want to.” It would be mortifying. Suicidal. He would never show his face again to Ford.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He winced, not particularly considering that. “I...right. I guess not.” He agreed somewhat dimmly, chancing to open his eyes. It wasn’t much better, the whole of the world seemed lost entirely in an open, vast, endless sky, endless space, a stretching of infinity. “Ugh.” He muttered helplessly, desperately clutching his hands over his eyes again. “When...when...when does this _stop_ , Bill?” He hissed out, _desperately_ , desperately wishing he could pull the emergency stop lever on this ride and get the hell off already, not even sure if it had _started_ yet really, strange looks and delays from strangers not even close enough to being a deterrent right then.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“An hour.” Probably. Usually. “What, want it to stop?” It was.. a question of concern, surprisingly. There’s times where he pushed and pushed, but bad trips were never the ideal dream, and, admittedly, he didn’t want Dipper to start freaking out to the point where his mind imagined crazier things chasing after him.(edited)

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“An _hour?_ ” He almost squeaked, as if it were an eternity. How long had it _even been?_ Had it been...had it even been a minute!? He had no idea. Time was...it wasn’t even real anymore, not exactly. “O-Of course I want it to stop! Bill! I...I can’t….” He felt the panic from earlier rush back to him, that bizarre unmanageable switch, that sudden jolt from thrilling, almost wondrousness, shooting right back to anxiety and panic of just losing control like the drop of gravity; like the disorienting flip of a switch. He couldn’t lose control. He couldn’t. He began to breath faster, _“Christ.”_ He couldn’t stop thinking and everything was still ripping from his grasp with him fighting every second, lost in the wave of thoughts that festered and pulled, drowning him in the images that spun and turned regardless of what he needed them to do.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Calm down. Breathe. I’ll be right back.”Bill was familiar enough with the effects in order to navigate the obscenities gracing his eyeballs, the madness of it all, what he assumed his mind actually would be consumed with if all went right. He got to his feet, carefully, slowly, using the table for support, his figure distorted and waving, melting into the floor. Bill exhaled, stepping down the hall and into the kitchen. Took a few minutes before he returned, footsteps growing closer before there’s a glass nudging against Dipper’s hands. Water, but it looked like.. basically anything else. “Drink it,” Bill softly instructed. “It’ll tone down the hallucinations. I’d.. get you medicine for the nausea you’re gonna go through, but I can’t read. I can’t read right now. I’m illiterate!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_Would_ he be right back? Would Dipper still be _alive_ when he got back? Would he even be Dipper? He felt suddenly tormented, thrown in actual suddenly very real waves of inky black, like that movie he saw when he was a kid--what was it? Pagemaster. A million colors flooding out from books, all the books, every one, spilling and swarming and devouring everything, leaving him and Bill nothing but cartoons; strangely bigheaded, four fingered cartoons. And this image of colors and of a nightmarish kind of sea flooded his senses, swarming with eyeballs and strange creatures he couldn’t name. Somewhere even Moby Dick peered out, a strange sound erupting from the beast. He shut his eyes, but he still _felt_ it, suddenly opening them for fear of actually drowning in it or getting eaten. 

When Bill towered over him, he could’ve sworn he saw him melt, and, chattering his teeth, grabbed onto...something. What was it? He stared at it, the coolness of it somehow...otherworldly. As if an entire universe were there in its depths. His eyes snapped back to...Bill? He wasn’t sure, he seemed distorted, maybe...maybe like a demon. Maybe Bill really was a demon. Maybe he’d been one all along. Dipper drank the water. He hadn’t even begun to realize how goddamn _thirsty_ he was, or the collection of something like cotton that seemed to be growing on the inside of his mouth. He felt a rush of a relief, downing it entirely. “Maybe we should ask the Page Master.” He told the other, completely serious. Not that that dick would do anything for them. Just drown them in more books, probably

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“How about we sit here safely and ride this out?” A better suggestion as he plopped down beside Dipper, shifting the weight on the cushions. “Shit gets.. old after a while. When you do this the first two months you get here, five times a week, everything is.. stale. All of it. Only fun for the first few minutes.” 

Relaxing at least. The dust adjusted to the mood of the user, which, thinking about it now, would have probably worked better if he gotten Dipper in the mood with D and D talk. Dragons and wizards instead of whatever the hell was happening now. He looked at the kid, just in case, not bothering for permission as he slipped a hand over, pressing it against Dipper’s forehead. Worrywart behavior, almost.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper’s eyes followed the sea of monsters and literature creatures that broke through the ocean, feeling the panic rise back through him at the multicolored waves, before looking back to Bill, startled. He had a strange aura about him, yellow and gold and _far too bright,_ but he found rather than recoiling at the words and touch, it was...well, it was all grounding. And he needed that. He didn’t really feel like wading through this sea all by himself. 

Even adventuring alone got to be...sometimes a bit much occasionally. No one to share the excitement with. And no one too to watch your back when you went in far too deep. Kinda like now. “Y-Y...yeah. That...that sounds good.” He agreed, the relief maybe even _palpable_ in his tone, looking a bit sick as he unconsciously moved closer to the other, some kind of dinky cartoon sailboat shifting to life beneath them to rock in the sea. He couldn’t really...decipher the rest of what Bill said about these things, catching only pieces.

Stale? God, he’d pay _good money_ for stale right about now. All of it was _a lot._

Dipper was always one for anxiety and awkwardness, and most of all, beyond all of it, he was...sort of a control freak. In his own way. Anyone who made lists that spilled all the way down the floor over a _conversation_ with their crush, who thought and thought and thought, who spent countless nights up and in the midst of insomnia was bound for that kind of behavior, at least when it came to his own head. His own constantly churning, constantly _thinking_ head. He didn’t do well when he had absolutely no control over himself at least, if nothing else, and there was a whole _lot_ of that going on now.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I know, I know. Bill is messing you up, huh? That poor, innocent, very very large head. I don’t know how we’ll ever reach coke if you’re tripping over weed.” With supernatural properties sprinkled in. Surely the situation would’ve went better without the addition, but far more boring, and Bill could only predict both of them would be knocked unconscious by now. 

When no fever is present, he removed his hand, bothering to shove a flying turtle out his view. It was a bargainer, offering endless opportunities at a quick cash grab. Bill would have to decline, as suave and charismatic as the reptile were. “Don’t worry, Pine Tree. After this, we’ll eat good. Then pass out. Everything will go great, don’t you sweat it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“This is _weed?_ ” His voice hitched on the word, disbelief and something close to horror clear in there. “I thought-I thought it was just...you don’t _hallucinate_ on weed, Bill!” He insisted, albeit had no frame of reference here at all besides the fact the kids smoking out back of the school never seemed to be in _this_ sort of state. It was impossible, right? Right? He groaned, crossing his arms then in a sign of defiance. “Nope, no, nope, I’m never doing that. No.” He decisively decided when it came to coke, before yelping as the tail of something shot from the colorful lights, whipping over his head. “But...r-right. Yeah. Okay. That...that sounds good.” He had to believe Bill. Bill wouldn’t lie to him about this...right? Most likely. Even so, despite himself, he _did_ trust Bill. And it felt kinda good being reassured by someone he did trust that things were not permanently, forever, and in all ways fucked up in this state for all eternity. That maybe someone would close the damn books and bring them _back_ to reality eventually. That damned wizard Page Master ass hole. 

Hell, maybe he could even...not enjoy perse, but… _appreciate_ all of this with that thought in mind.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“No yelling! I can physically see the sound waves.” And it wasn’t too great. Disorienting enough for him to wince, closing his eyes in order to avoid the endless push of air that was supposed to be clashing against his face any moment now. It never came. “ _Man._ Do you think demons do drugs? I think so. Maybe not to numb their emotions and forget about life, but.. just because. Could you imagine that? The privilege of not having to justify yourself? Never be questioned?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He hissed, “Well, _sorry_ , but I had no idea what...what even we smoked.” But he did for his part keep his voice down, as if in fact Bill were being 100% honest and could actually see the soundwaves. And why couldn’t he? In that moment it felt absolutely, totally logical. “What, you want to be a demon now?” He asked lightly, using the touch of the other as literally a grounding station to keep himself together as he felt the water do its job. The hallucinations continued, but the spinning heat all around him, the intensity of it seemed a slight bit less, “Isn’t it enough you want to like, be eternally betrothed to one?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Nah, don’t want to be a demon. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was in some past life. Now I’m reincarnated. No memories of my destructive dictatorship.” It’s all a joke, really. Most of the knowledge on demons came from his Christian grandparents. May god bless their crooked souls. “I mean, they live forever. Who wants to live forever? From what I know, when they die, their souls get all... sent to hell to be devoured by other demons. Something like that, I don’t know. Being eternally betrothed is enough.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Wouldn’t be surprised.” He agreed sagely, smirking. And then he snorted. “Sent to hell to be eaten by other demons? What.” He grinned. “That’s dumb. You’re dumb.” His tone was humored, and somehow dull, joking as he nudged the other with an elbow. “Man, I don’t know. Maybe it’s in their _nature_ to live forever. You know? Like...maybe that’s just normal and absolutely okay for them.” Better to muse about this stuff than focus on the constantly shifting, moving world all around or the swaths of still vibrant colors that drowned everything, honestly.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill grunted, slinging an arm around Dipper as to put him into a loose headlock. The calm was happening, a wind down, where he, as he would call it, entered “stoner mode” where nonsense left his mouth. Even more than usual. “Shut up, geek. What do you know? Only.. animes and tarot cards. I feel like demons live forever because they.. find some way to do that. Or something. Can’t be natural.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You’re making no sense.” He found himself giggling much like an idiot before shoving at the other for the weak attempt at headlocking as well as the general...dumbness of all of it. “Why not? They’re like. They’re not humans. Who’s to say we as humans can...you know. Can even understand them? I mean everything’s still a mystery pretty much. Maybe they were born to live forever.” He continued, glad then with a startle of relief for the terrifying intensity of images to begin winding away from him, settling into a strange haze that had been beforehand left beneath the surface of the panic and colors. He’d take it honestly.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill simply fell to the side, limp like a flower blown by the wind. In general his limbs felt like jelly, lacking bones or control. He settled with simply allowing his face to be pressed against the arm of the seat. “...What’s even there to _do_ for that long? No wonder they’re all.. evil. You live for so long, see and hear everything. Got no ending to your existence, no satisfying final conclusion that wraps everything to an end. Hell, I’d..” be thought it over, chewing on his cheek. The hunger was starting to grow, just slightly. “..I don’t even know.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper studied the ceiling for a little bit too long, albeit for him it only felt like a single, wavering moment. Or maybe as if time didn’t exist. Maybe time _didn’t_ exist. What if it was just...a made up thing? “Well…” He mused. “Maybe...it’s like rats.” He began suddenly. “You know, they’re supposed to be insanely intelligent and empathetic? Like, they care about each other. Help each other. Live their lives...they even make great pets. But they only live four years at most. Can you imagine us living four years? Feeling like...satisfied with everything? But, you know. We humans aren’t rats.” He just kinda left that somewhat “profound” thought out there between them, contemplating it. “So, maybe that’s what it’s like for demons? For us it’s like...that’s too long. We can’t imagine it. But for them living just a little while would be inconceivably...short? Or impossible? Maybe eternity works for demons because...they aren’t us?” He tried, putting it all out there with a kind of heavy wave of his hand.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“We’re getting in too deep of waters for people who aren’t sober.” Bill rubbed at his face, then eyes, enough to where a second subset of colors splotched in a sporadic fashion, confusing him even further. “Guess there’s always the chance to ask the guy about it. I don’t think rats is a great analogy for all of that, but hell. It’s not like I can think of anything better.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hey, rats are nice.” Dipper commented lightly. “They you know, they just get a bad rap.” But Bill...did kind of have a point. Even as he stared off against the surreal wave of lights and colors, a little bit less frantic and anxiety ridden then just before (but still having trouble beating down his constant myriad of thoughts), he could admit to as much. Things were not particularly setting into his head where they should be. Well, at all really. “I...crap, don’t suppose you have more water or...or food something?” He tried.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“My third grade teacher had a rat named Ginger.” It was a hamster, but same difference in the eyes of Bill. The story itself wasn’t even relevant to their situation. Even so, his lips were loose at the moment. “It was fat. _Real_ fat, cause all we use to do is feed it sunflower seeds when the teacher wasn’t looking. But uh. Hmmm. Yeah yeah, let’s attempt at making it to the kitchen.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper chuckled. “Ginger, huh? Sounds kinda cute." He commented and grinned weakly, somewhat wearily, face still pale from the chaos that warped around them. And he hesitated at the last part. Suddenly Dipper wasn’t so sure that was wise. “Is...like, is that….something we can do?” He asked as if it were in fact some cosmic mountain they had no hopes of scaling, frowning and studying the still melting space above him dubiously.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“We can do it. Just uhhhh, hold my sleeve or something. I’ll guide you.” There were no promises he wouldn’t be bumping into a wall or two. The journey was always a mess, filled with mistakes around every corner, but it _is_ possible to safely make it to the kitchen. A few cups of water and hopefully Bill would be literate once more. If not, well, there’s leftovers in the fridge. 

With a shaky intake of breath, he stood. “You hear me, right? Because I’m hearing other things and have to actively filter it out.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Uh, yeah, no, I hear you.” Then he paused, looking suddenly frightened. “Wait, or...is that even you? Are there...did you never come back earlier?” His voice became higher as he tried to shake off the frantic bite of worry that crept into his voice, instead blindly reaching out to grab hold of the other’s sleeve, pulling himself unsteadily to his feet and swallowing down some of his panic. 

_Whoa._ His legs almost gave out underneath him, but beyond miracles, he remained standing, everything swaying dangerously.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m here.” Bill coaxed, smiling, though the gesture itself was directed little inches off from the way he was facing. Small mistake, but the secured grip on the sleeve confirmed Dipper had took hold. “I’ll go slow. If you need me to cut back, just say something.” 

Two things were accomplished this day, and perhaps if he wasn’t absolutely tripping off the equivalent of acid, the celebration would direct into something more tame: a contract with the devil and scoring his ‘adopted’ nephew the rebellious ecstasies of marijuana. He would mark this down later. A scrapbook of sorts. 

After glancing over his shoulder in an attempt to ensure Dipper wasn’t vomiting, he took a few steps forward. Safe for now. The kitchen was straight ahead, the lights providing more of an obvious route to follow.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper kept purchase on Bill’s sleeve and found himself grateful as all of hell for it. Man, the ground still shifted dangerously below and he walked on his legs as if they were new and foriegn, like a baby deer that couldn’t quite pull itself across the open floor. He also found some….uh, maybe not great relief in hearing Bill’s assurance, if just due to the fact it should be more embarrassing than it was that he needed to hear it. “Alright, okay, cool. I, uh, I think we’re okay.” He assured him regardless, even as he wobbled on behind, making their way...somewhere. Somewhere, he strained, thinking, where there was probably water. _Maybe_ food, though he also wasn’t entirely sure how his stomach was going to react. 

The lights ahead proved to sway and swirl, guiding kinda like that of that whole yellow brick road out before them; a guide to the Emerald City. Honestly, he needed to get his head out of all these kid movies, it was getting to be a bit much.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“See? Easy peasy.” It was to some degree. Bill had definitely ran into the doorway at some point, quickly gathering himself in hopes Dipper hadn’t noticed. There’s an isle in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by equally generic white counters that circled around, a large fridge being the stopping point. He guided Dipper over to a stool, patting his head(which was his face) in some type of reassurance. “I’ll get you some water. What do you wanna swallow down on, huh? What does Dipper Delirious Pines want for dinner over at Bunkle Bill’s h—“ 

Bill flew a hand up to his mouth, swallowing back the unexpected vomiting threatening to shoot from his throat. An easier to way to get the effects out, at aleast. “ _Home,_ ” he finished, weakly.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper _did_ kinda notice the running into walls and jostling actually and gasped, though for his part, had really just dismissed it for some...some crazy burst of water or a monster or something. Maybe an earthquake? God, were those happening??? Reality still seemed oddly ripped from the seams, and it _still_ felt as if everything and anything was curling outward from some...netherworld or another. He flicked his eyes around for that golden, yellow brick road, trying to make it out for some sense of refuge and at the run in with the wall went from grabbing at Bill’s sleeve to his arm, groaning slightly. “E-...Easy peasy.” He grit out, feeling more nauseous than before, “Right.” 

The boy only glanced up _finally_ as they crossed what amounted to the Sahara Desert and into….some other place. Foreign. Strange. Shadows that seemed to be taunting at him, jeering, daring him to get closer in some mess of lights and eyes that watched, stewed, _saw_ . He swallowed, looking away before Bill patted his face and he squinted into it, sputtering. “What-- _dude,_ ” His voice was startled, and he was _still_ keeping hold of Bill like a lifeline, heart hammering through his chest, but kinda managed to keep it together just the same. 

A slight of concern came over him though, frowning a bit thickly as Bill doubled over. He even let go, replacing a hand on the...what was it. Uncle? Brother? Something like that’s back, grimacing and patting at it. “You know maybe...just water. And like, crackers? Those are good for...for not vomiting, right? We can share.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Fairy dust tended to have these drawbacks. Doable. Annoying but doable, survivable, and vomiting out a clear substance that looked to be caked in an elementary school girl’s project was always the successful guarantee of ridding of the issue entirely. Bill’s track record of going into the forest and harassing fairies would probably be put to an eventual end. Not that they had any other town to live in, but they would make it more difficult to be discovered. 

“Crackers and water, nice.” He broke away from Dipper. The handle of the fridge was more familiar than anything else in the house, though once opened, caused Bill to flinch at the cooled air and light. He pulled out some water bottles, lazily tossing them atop the isle Dipper was seated at. Next was the crackers. Relatively easy as they sat in the pantry, box colored in a deep shade of red. “You ever.. ever think you’re a homosexual?” 

Where did that come from? Not directly from the reasonable section of his brain, he was sure. Still, he tried following up with the mess being made. “My mother use to think I was homosapien,” already the wrong word, “but I’m a narcissist who believes labels are made to further restrict our freedom as individuals. You know this. I talk about this. Yeah, I’m high. What? Anyway.” He set the box down, slipping clumsily into a seat. “I’m not gay. That’s the lesson for today.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

As soon as Dipper managed to work gravity enough to fumble himself haphazardly into the chair along the counter top he immediately allowed his head to drop on the cool, icy surface of it, groaning at the relief there. He felt instantly that it was maybe the best feeling he’d ever experienced and just...let himself be there for a moment. Or more. He actually would be _perfectly content_ to lay like that forever if the sentence hadn’t come from Bill’s mouth. 

He choked slightly, squinting as he tried to make out the words, or if he’d even heard them right. 

“What--no. I’m...no, I like…” He squinted off. “You know. Girls. Or whatever.” But frowned more. Did that even matter though? Was there even such a _thing_ as sexual orientation, really? What if it was...was just an idea? A concept? A big thing pumped into the societal structures of the world at large, by society and the cogs of the working machine in it, a great big idea that just existed because animals acted in a way that made them _believe_ it was everything? What if the concept was just that, and really, even the idea of attraction couldn’t be limited by a single, linear line, buried in the chasms of ancient eons, strung together through religion and culture and strangely shaped lies? 

He shook himself then.

What? No. He definitely liked...you know. Girls. Or a girl. A specific girl. Mostly. A single one. He hummed a bit distant, distracted at thoughts of Wendy and grateful no swarm of anxiety came at it, still taking in the beautiful feeling of the cool surface on his face as Bill continued to carry on, trying and failing to follow it all. Most of it kinda got lost to him. He squinted, as if trying to decipher some impossible code there while the other talked. “Uh….homo...sapien.” He muttered, “Hmmm…” And trailed off, before picking back up onto the conversation, “Uh, you’ve...definitely told me that before, yeah. More than once...something...labels...society...yeah.” In some...weird sage “life lesson” rant the other went off on like he sometimes did. And Dipper blinked. “But, man, you...yeah you are. I mean. You’re into Ford, and...he’s...pretty much a guy? Also didn’t you tell me you’ve slept with guys before. I’m like...90% I’ve been scarred by this information before. Like recently.” He started playing with whatever he could find on the counter top, suddenly very interested in the textile touch of things, playing around with what he wasn’t even sure that had been left there. Maybe some kind of paperweight?

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I sleep with everyone,” Bill corrected, propping his forearms on the counter. He was in deep thought over this, not that it necessarily mattered in the grand scheme of things. Having a sexuality crisis in your thirties might be little too late, and someone like him, who somehow avoided every sexual disease even with his knack for bed hopping, wouldn’t care an hour from now. It’s how the cookie crumbled. 

Bill ripped open the box of crackers, ripping a pack out its reddened clutches. “Don’t sleep with everyone, kid. Matter of fact, maybe those religious freaks were onto something when they said to wait until marriage. I probably got fifteen kids in Arizona. Children scattered all across this country.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yeah that...sounds more accurate.” He said blatantly. “And...yeah, no, I definitely don’t...plan to. Hell, I…” He squinted. “Haven’t even...uh….” And even in his slow moving brain, his terribly high state, he paused a moment. “You know.” He just left it at that somewhat awkwardly. Deciding to just wave a vague open hand at the concept. Drugs were absolutely not the only thing he hadn’t done just yet in his life. Not that he was even ready for that kind of thing. Or, well, okay...maybe. With...someone...specific. He wasn’t going to dig on that. He just needed to...not do that. Everything still seemed to be way too hazy, disoriented and otherworldly to get any grips on any of these ideas. 

He snorted at the last bit, “Ugh. Somehow, I’m really not surprised.” He muttered against the cold surface of the table, voice muffled as he dropped whatever it was he’d been playing with, his hat falling off as he shifted his head to press closer against it. “So then, what, you’re...serious about Ford?” He peered up weakly, trying to make Bill out, “Just. That whole...forever thing. Or is this just...you know. You being you. Until I don't know, you get bored of it."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

...Was Bill serious? The more insane parts of himself would deem his recent infatuation as truthful, a love to be held, but the more reasonable part that scraped past the exaggerations would see this as.. not ideal. Impossible, at that. 

Bill broke everything down. Carefully. The contract? Yes, he was serious about it. His selfish and power hungry nature was always sincere when it came down to business that piqued his interest. He would without a doubt throw everything away in order to achieve the goal. Though.. love. That was tricky. A more complex feeling of the human lifestyle, and the more he thought and thought about entering a relationship with a demon, nothing.. too great came to mind. They’re far too different. More importantly, it took two to tango. So in response, Bill made a seesaw gesture with his hand. 

“So so.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper was impressed and also kinda surprised by the admission, all considered. “Well...I really hope you remember that when we sober up.” He told the other, looking over to him, head still resting on the countertop. “I mean...I don’t know, man. Can’t imagine that’d be like realistically a good….long term investment. Unless you were serious about the kid thing. In that case…” He grimaced, “An even _worse_ long term investment.” Not to say he wasn’t also nervous about the idea that Bill may just be insane enough to seriously give it a shot. Who really knew at this point. Somehow he still just found himself kinda relieved there was still some _sense_ to it all with the other, even if it took getting stupidly, ridiculously high to find it.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“It wouldn’t be good! That’s what makes it all so desirable.” Bill pulled two crackers out, placing them side by side. “This is the prediction for my journey with Stanford. First,” he moved one cracker closer. “I will initiate any and all human affections upon his oblivious soul. Slowly but _surely,_ he will grow curious. Since knowledge is his whole thing.” Now both the crackers were touching, leaving crumbs behind. Bill even had the gall to make them bump once or twice. “Eventually he’ll want to experience these, uh, ‘human customs’ that I’m going on about. Like in those movies! You know the ones, kid. Then we’ll make out, get busy, and probably _then_ is when I can offer judgement of whether or not he’s the one for me. Do you see how I’m going about the situation? That’s called being an innovator.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It was good there was still some weird hazy distance and detachment from reality, or this would’ve probably been all that much more horrifying and also terrible. Instead he snorted, “Alright...so let’s say, for the sake of argument...it turns out like, he can actually...I don’t know, that it _works_ like that between him and people. Heck, maybe he even...demon equivalent likes you. I mean, honestly...there is plenty of lore with demons and even ancient gods getting with people in mythos and whatever. So like...just...what then? You guys are...together?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s marijuana influenced mind hadn’t gotten that far. A blank in his plan, an unexpected twist. It’s more evident for his lack of preparation for this matter from the way his eyes widened, lips parted in silence for a few moments. “Weeeelll,” he drew out, thinking, head hurting in the unnecessary complicated process of it all. “No. Guess not. Would take some other wooing. Can’t just throw a guy in your bed and expect a relationship the next day. I should know! I’ve ditched everyone!” He actually has. “But, hm. I have to make an extra plan now. Plan Z. Plan A involves getting a hug. We haven’t even reached that milestone yet.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh my god, a hug?” Dipper asked, voice clearly in disbelief, some lacing of soberness getting through there somehow despite it all. “I want to record you and play you back to yourself...so you can hear how ridiculous this all sounds...” He confided in the other somewhat on a groan, but even so, all of it seemed less illogical while they were in this bizarre state, leaving it feeling less foreboding than maybe it would’ve. Even more...well, conversational possibly. “God, can you even hug him...he’s like...I don’t know, all sweater tentacles and shadows and eyes.” He kinda opened his fingers into the air as if to give a representation.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Jealousy is a disease.” Bill finally ate the crackers, fumbling with the water bottle as he held it up. The faint imagery of colors remained, changing shade every ten seconds. At some point he figured he ripped opened a fruity flavor packet without any recollection of ever pulling one out. “I’m gonna find out. Know what? How about we stop questioning my romantic interests and get YOU a date with that goddamn hillbilly already.” 

Wasn’t she way older than Dipper? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t care either, until probably they met up and the realization settled in.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Man, will you stop calling her that? Wendy’s really badass.” He muttered, tone a bit reproachful. “And…” He hesitated, “No, she...uh...well she already kinda…” He squinted, “Well, she already rejected me. Like, a long time ago. We’re just friends. Good friends.” He amended. The reason of course being the age difference, yes, and...possibly because they _were_ really good friends, but then like he’d get lectured by someone who wanted to date a trillion year old demon. “Ugh...even Mabel has been begging me to move on.” Which was a sure sign as anything that something was dead and buried.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh.” Bill offered a sympathetic look in these trying times, which might come off as mocking more than a genuine attempt being considerate. “This is pathetic, kid.” That probably didn’t help either. “Here I was, thinking you were afraid, but no. You were rejected and continue to yearn in the background. This is why we need to introduce you to coke.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He groaned into the table, disheveled, burying his head in his locks of brown hair. “Man...I _know._ I just...can’t seem to stop...stop _thinking_ about her like that.” And he grimaced then, “And _no coke, Bill._ Seriously? This is already killing me.” Which were probably the wrong words and mindset, considering the effect it had on the experience around, causing him to desperately reach for another topic. “Hey, share your crackers and water, dude."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

This was.. one of the more mundane parts of his life. Bill couldn’t remember a time where he sat down and talked this long about normal things. As normal as both his and Dipper’s lives could be. He passed a water bottle and pack over, grinning somewhat mischievously. “I wish I could relate to rejection. I never once in my life got shot down. I mean, have you _seen_ me? This is why you should’ve been my biological son. Since the universe had different actions, now I have to go out there and give Wendy the old Carrie prank.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He rolled his eyes, “Right, how could anyone resist....” His voice was laced heavily in sarcasm as he accepted the bottle and crackers far too gratefully, tearing them open with ease. “Guess I’ll just have to settle for...I don’t know, “adopted nephew” or… “younger brother.”” And he squinted at the other, giving him a patented “look,” “Ugh, dude...no, leave her alone. She’ll kick your ass. Plus, we’re friends, man.” And as soon as the bottle was open, he was already downing its contents far too eagerly. God, _water_. It was amazing in that moment, the relief washing into him with it. He couldn’t believe how badly he’d needed it.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m joking.” Partially. The crackers were making his mouth dry, but there is a smile at witnessing Dipper practically consume the entire bottle. “I had other plans today, if you wanted to tag along. It’s already getting pretty late out, but hey, I’m basically nocturnal by this point. Nothing a flashlight and a speed dial of 911 can’t fix.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He eyed the other like he was crazy, dropping the water bottle then, partially in disbelief. “You have _plans._ Like _this?_ ” He asked incredulously. “You can’t be serious. We barely made it to the kitchen.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“This was on the spot sort of thing,” Bill explained. “I didn’t expect to get married to a demon and smoke weed with a teenager. Things just happen.” As ridiculous as it all sounded. He regarded Dipper with a look of amusement, eyebrows raising. “This is child’s play. Should’ve seen me last week.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Bill, _no._ ” He said then, too decisively. “You _cannot_ go out like this. And I--” He hesitated, casting his gaze around, “I’m not...going home. Not like this.” His words were uncomfortable. He could just see himself, _alone_ , in his room, working himself into a fit of panic and anxiety. Or worse, see Fiddleford waiting, apron on from dinner, arms crossed, demanding to know where he’d been. God, not to even mention just the trip alone to _getting_ there. If he’d tripped over his own feet just getting to the _kitchen_ what would a car be like? 

Things were...better than before, really they were, but he was still clearly high. And he didn’t feel safe leaving this spot _at all._ The thought too of Bill taking off had him nervous. Mostly because _what the fuck_ he’d just seen him stumble over himself walking a few feet, but also...because he was not feeling great about being left on his own for once here.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Duh you’re not going home. I would get arrested.” Bill and Fiddleford didn’t speak much. Hell, if any, him merely existing as a menace within the town that hung out with a kid since other adults were weary of his presence. That and his odd venturing throughout the nights, going into the dark depths of the forest only to return at the break of dawn. “Worry not, Pine of Trees. This isn’t Cipher’s first rodeo traversing the dangerous forests while high. But for you, _maybe_ I’ll give myself another fifteen minutes to sober up.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“The...the forest?” He asked dubiously, and despite himself, there was a pinch of curiosity there. Dipper loved Gravity Fall’s woods. Hell, he loved adventures and mysteries and spent about as much, if not more time traversing its depths as Bill. Heck, that was how the first two got connected after all, researching and prodding deep into the mysteries of this weird town and probably running for their lives on more than a few occasions. He seemed to shift slightly, hesitating. “I mean...is it...the part we’d be going safe?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill stared quietly. Another second, blinking, being hit with a question that soon resulted in a fit of laughter, nearly choking on the water as he went for another sip. “Safe! _Safe_!! You are hilarious. Woo.” And in the next instance, his face flattened entirely. Much like a statue, straight-faced. “No, kid. No. No it’s not going to be safe. Mothman owes me money. Honestly? I’d rather you not even come to this. I can’t defend both of us while high.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _What_ . Seriously? Dude moth-man’s liar like...a three day’s walk or something, isn’t it?" He asked incredulously, trying and _failing_ to track it all in his head. "Man. Can’t it _wait_ until we’re...you know. _Not_ high.” He asked desperately and let his head drop back on the countertop. “It does _not_ look like you’re exactly pressed for money right now either.” His muffled voice came back out, clearly all interest in doing this having been completely lost.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hm. That is true.” Bill’s mind didn’t exactly have too many plans that made sense for the moment. There were no backups either, and no consideration of what could possibly be stalking him on the adventure there. “It’s about the principle,” he defended. “I’m married to a goddamn demon. The hell do I look like letting moth-man get the jump on me? No sir, no sir. I will not live under these conditions.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yeah, you’re right, you’ll _die_ under them.” He growled, so not feeling quite up to being the voice of reason here. “Come on dude, just wait until tomorrow night and bring a giant bug zapper, or like an oil lit lantern. You’ll be fine.” He waved dismissively, starting slightly at some weird creature that had hobbled into view in the still shifting colors. They were becoming dimmer, less prominent and _real_ by now, but damn if it still didn’t catch him off guard. “Besides.” He mumbled, “Aren’t you like...legally bound to hang out with me here. Isn’t it illegal to leave minors high by themselves or something.” He asked vaguely, squinting at the other, certain this had to be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of this part. Up to your imagination what goes down. For the next chapter, D, D, and m D with a demon and Bill ridiculously flirting! And Dipper unamused.


	4. D, D, and Dumber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rolling the dice here, playing the games, flirting with demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rex: Alright for the few people actually invested in this I apologize we like, neither of us have ever played D&D before so everything is pulled from our asses entirely 100% and probably butchered the game smh. Also a reminder all of this is pretty much fast paced improved so...like, the quality kinda is what it is. Maybe one day we'll rewrite and condense it, but honestly I'm really kinda digging the imperfect free form of it?

Dipper had gotten….into _a lot of trouble._ Basically, his rights and privileges amounting now to zero, especially after he’d dragged his disheveled ass back home the next morning. He’d called first, gotten an earful, gotten fussed over for hours and had to sit through a long lecture with his uncle’s son, his cousin sort of (he'd always been called that anyways), behind him, giving him nothing short of a kind of amused and knowing look. 

It had, in short, been completely awful. And he was technically not allowed to go _anywhere._ Normally this would be a huge drag. The whole family had gone out to some kind of party set up near the lake that had been planned for ages in celebration of some kind of weird Gravity Falls centric holiday he forgot the name of, Mabel was helping with the decorations and karaoke, and his uncle had to be there to help with the set up considering his cousin and him worked on the dock. Even Wendy was going, and he’d been killing himself to meet her and her friends up there, but...hell, he guessed considering what tonight was, it was just as well. He’d decidedly moved the D, D, and more D campaign to this said night rather than their usual time, taking advantage of having the house to himself entirely. 

Everything was set up. A large board game (mostly to map visuals and locations,) the endless sea of graph papers, a cardboard stand folded out to hide the Dungeon Master’s notes, and of course the few 12 sided die. He waited there, glancing anxiously and with real anticipation at the clock in his phone for the hundredth time, biting down at his lip. He was planning on waiting for Bill to come first, then summon Ford to get this started. Seemed reasonable.

“Man, he better not be late.” He muttered, glancing at the window.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill, for the most part, was never late to Dipper’s little meetings. The kid held a soft spot in his frozen heart, able to pry his availability for free, without issue, and enough for Bill to accommodate this silly little game with some craftsmanship. He made horns to get into character. Well, not really horns, per se, if only two empty toilet paper rolls glued onto a headband Mabel had given him some time ago. He made sure to paint them red, just to showcase his effort placed into making Dipper happy. From a different perspective, he looked fucking ridiculous stepping out in a Brioni Vanquish suit, gold dressing him with plastic and paper atop his well-groomed head. Speaking of which, this attire was absolutely unnecessary, but it was pretty much Bill’s thing to dress formal wherever he went. Unless it was sweltering hot outside that day. 

Lucky for Dipper, there’s a knock on his window right after. All sharp grins and a muffled laughter behind the glass, pointing at his poorly made horns. He looked like a serial killer.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper scrambled to the window of the attic as something tapped against it and threw it open. He beamed into the crisp evening air, a slightly confused look coming over him as he laughed. “What. That’s awesome.” He grinned, and meant it. He’d long ago stopped asking about the constant dress wear, but that didn’t stop him from poking jabs of course. “Nice suit.” He commented wryly, before adding, “We have the place to ourselves, so uh, just give me a sec here.” And it was then he shut the window and bounded downstairs, feeling despite himself pretty eager to throw open the front door to let Bill in. He was out of breath, but clearly looked pretty eager for the game ahead.

“Aw man, really going full out, huh?” He asked with another laugh, gesturing for the other to come in. “Mabel and uncle Fiddleford are out at the docks today for that big town party you’ve probably heard about. Which, uh..." He hesitated briefly, "Well, it means if they come home you’ll have to scale out the window, probably.” He had a rope at least if nothing else. “Or hell, maybe you can just banish yourself to Ford’s domain.” He joked, still looking far too excited than was maybe appropriate for such a game.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Thanks! I spent a total of fifteen minutes on it!” His cackling never failed to disturb nearby wildlife, like it held a natural maliciousness strung along with it. When the door is swung open, Bill slid inside with a dance move, a surprising amount of rhythm with each step. Then again, he did share stories of frequenting nightclubs and casinos. One was bound to learn some moves eventually. “Pfft, _town party._ Yeah right. It’s not a party if there’s no drugs and anarchy! If cruisers aren’t being smashed, then I’m gonna pass. Remember that little poetic rhyme I just made up. It’s gonna help in the long run, I promise.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He rolled his eyes at Bill’s antics, but seemingly couldn't be brought from the enthusiasm he had. He laughed, “Yeah, yeah, alright, you weirdo.” And god, drugs were the _last_ thing he wanted to be thinking about. Just the same, he was beaming, and nothing could pop his balloon, a few steps ahead of Bill as he waved him over towards the stairs. “Okay then, Mr. Tiefling, you ready to play D, D, and more D?” He intertwined his fingers together, stretching them in front of him as if they were about to get cracking on something far too important. Which they were. Bill might be marking his scrapbooks and memoriams for when Dipper got high, but Dipper was just about to do the same in introducing Bill to the wonders of the imaginative and needed universe of D, D and m D.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Dumb, Dumb and Dumber,” Bill sung, trailing right after Dipper. “I should’ve brought my pie. My sweet, sweet peanut butter pie.” The _only_ thing he ever whipped up himself from scratch, which was an odd and seemingly uncharacteristic choice in itself. The man known for gold and creeping around the forest like a maniac, in fact, enjoyed something as simple as peanut butter pies. “This better be fun! I had other plans today.” 

He didn’t.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh, come on man, like you’d miss the chance to see Ford.” He snorted with a hint of disbelief, not buying it for a _second_ and pushed open his rooms. “Besides! Seriously, don’t knock it till you try it. You might even end up really enjoying yourself! You never know.” 

The room was still an organized mess of graph paper and dies and Dipper gestured off to the right of the board set out at its center where a pillow sat. “So, there’s your seat, we just have to summon Ford up and we’re ready to go.” He tilted, bouncing eagerly at the balls of his feet as he spoke, clapping his hands together in a beaming grin. Meanwhile Ford’s book lay at the front of the board, opened and waiting.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill grumbled an insult or two, nothing too serious and solely made quiet in order to annoy Dipper. At being shown his spot, he took a seat without much complaint, staring at the book with the tiniest of smiles. “Wait wait-“ Bill self-consciously touched his hair, then fixed his collar which hadn’t even had a wrinkle. “How do I look?” 

Obviously Ford probably did not give one shit over the outward appearance of Bill, especially since his attire in general was overdoing it in every way, but still. It’s his thing.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper rolled his eyes at the grumbling insults, but honestly Bill couldn’t bring him down tonight. He was already too excited to get things moving and he just snorted instead, “Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’re too cool for this.” He joked lightly, and as he moved over to the book he paused, giving the other a raised brow and a dubious grin, “Uh. You look fine, Bill. Pretty much almost like you always do. Just...you know. More.” He decided for the sake of avoiding any scandalous looks on the matter not to push the fact that there was absolutely no way Ford would notice or care. “You ready?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yep! Send the husband on over.” This was... not a scene he expected to see, nonetheless be apart of with Ford and Dipper. Either it went nicely and he obtained a new hobby to butter Ford up with, or, well, the exact opposite where he strayed away from the game entirely to pester the demon with sexual innuendos.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper was, for his part, was seemingly either determined to make this work or so enthralled with the idea of starting the game that Bill disrupting it hadn’t even occurred to him to its full potential. “Awesome.” He enthused, looking for all he was worth like an eight year old just being given a new video game, bouncing there with excitement. "Well, okay...not the husband part--but." He squinted a moment before dismissing it, leaning over and took a steadying breath before focusing as he usually did to call the demon out, gently putting his hand to the page and looking to the symbol. 

After a moment a sudden static charge of blue electricity spit outward, a spilling of black and white light stirring in the page as the book suddenly flipped through the pages wildly in an invisible gust of wind, a great shadow of a figure emerging from its finally stilling form, shadows surging to life, rising upward, manifesting in the rough form of a man. It seemed for a moment as if the warmth had been sucked from the room, pooling out into something far more chilling, more haunting, an unnatural stillness settling over the room in an ominous manner. 

At least that’s how Dipper saw it. 

It had been a brief period since Stanford's last trip out to the mortal realm. His eyes moved past Dipper who looked apprehensive, anxious in his presence as he often did...yet still oddly excited, until moving his gaze over towards...hm. Bill Cipher. 

“...Bill.” He stated abruptly, tilting his head at the other’s obvious presence. “I did not expect you to be joining us like this.” He observed the human...the human whose soul had been bound to him but a moment’s time, less than a week prior, taking in his features carefully. To what state he was adjusting in, considering the extent of their deal.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s perspective had been different. Even without the bound by soul deal he was forever trapped within, all he felt was genuine _amusement._ Each and every time Ford was called, the display had been a show, a small insight on the potential of the demon. The inviting chill of Ford’s appearance made him smile out of admiration, warmth, the obvious twinges of his infatuation coming to light. Hell, he looked at Ford like he’s the most fascinating and valuable thing to ever grace his eyes. Bill was.. lost. 

“Evening,” He greeted, relatively normal in spite of the silly headband. He glanced around for a second, taking in Dipper’s junky room. “Yeah? I didn’t either.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It was strange. Because where Ford’s entire demeanor seemed entirely otherworldly, where there was something grave and foreboding still there about him, impossible to be separated from his form...still, a grin seemed to pull against his lips at Bill’s words. “I see.” He sounded briefly amused, expression softening slightly and waved a hand, suddenly another light sparkling in the spitting static beneath him at the book to which an old, worn journal appeared from within it, falling to the floor with a subtle thud, along with two dice materializing in his hands between two rope like fingers. 

Dipper practically radiated his excitement at that point, seeming to fight off the apprehension. “Awesome.” He whispered, but even he seemed to have enough sense to not get over enthusiastic, waiting eagerly where he sat, still buzzing with anticipation. 

“I take it Dipper has taught you the basics?” And abruptly the demon carefully guided his way down to a sitting position, legs crossed right there upon the book, grinning wider now, something even...strange slipping into his features then. Certainly foreign for Cipher to be witness to, betraying something almost _warm_ to it. Something almost _human_ , even, if you were to really study the change. “I warn you now, this game is not for the light of heart, Bill. And I doubt either of us will be going easy on you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

While the display was interesting in itself, Bill’s focus was on Ford’s face. Enraptured to an unhealthy degree as, what, a smile graced that handsome face? Oh, his heart. It ached painfully to see it amongst a burning world, wrapped between his fingers. “Some of it,” he answered belatedly. “I’m an adapting type of guy, I’m sure it’ll be alright. And hey. I would _never_ want you to go easy on me. Be rough all you want.” 

First sex joke of the night. Already off to a great start in his book. He wasn’t expecting Ford to pick up on it, but that was the fun of it all.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper’s face fell only a brief moment, brows furrowing to give Bill “a look” at the comment, dull and with knitted brows but Ford, for his part, did not seem to notice in the slightest. On the contrary, his grin twitched slightly higher at the challenge, the dice playing between his fingers in a seemingly easy, practiced fashion. 

“Oh? I'll have to remember you said those words, Bill.” Was it a taunt? Yes. Almost with something of good humor laced in the words, a challenge there, light, joking. Banter, really. A trailing rope of a thread coiled out from him then, snatching the journal and setting it just behind the board to keep it from prying eyes. He didn’t look at it. He didn’t _really_ even need to, apparently keeping it there more over for the aesthetic of the game.

“Alright.” He turned his gaze back toward Dipper, who was back to looking abashed rather than giving Bill pointed looks, smiling a bit anxiously in return. “We left off in the Smog of Delverine, no?” 

“Yes.” Dipper replied at once, the excitement returning in full, before hastily turning to Bill, “My character, Tyrone, was on an adventure to collect the orbs of Absolution and find the prince who wheeled them. We uh, we came across a swamp along the way that’s blocking the path, filled with heavy fog.” 

“Your character, what’s their name, Bill?” Ford asked, almost conversationally, still looking upbeat, “You can simply add him to the journey. Make up however much you wish to. Perhaps he is on the same quest, or perhaps a different one altogether. It is your choice.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“...Why the hell did you pick the name Tyrone?” It was an actual question, though simultaneously meant to mock Dipper in his personal choices. With all the fantasy name generators online, books, movies, and television series, Dipper chose.. Tyrone. 

Though Bill’s tone, unfairly so, was different when addressing Ford. Soft-like, too friendly for his own good. “Leviathan’s the name. Ruling over everything he passes is the game. Woot woot. I’ll just hitch a ride onto Pine Tree’s quest.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hey, what, come on man, Tyrone’s a _great_ name. It’s basically perfect for everything.” He defended, crossing his arms in retort. And he gave Bill a slight glare at his obvious sucking up to Ford, rolling his eyes a bit in exaggeration. 

Ford’s grin lightened slightly as Bill shared the details of his character, not paying too much mind of the two’s strange exchange. “Well then, you have quite the quest in front of you, Leviathan.” And he looked between them with an air of eagerness, spreading his arms as if preparing or readying them for a performance of some sort. “Alright, then, you two. As we know, along Tyrone’s path has been crossed with the great Smog of Delverine. Around you hushes a rolling, great and powerful fog, at your feet lies what you do not know. Black trees tower over head, dark branches reaching out towards the blood red sky. And so, just what do the two of you do?” 

Dipper sat up straighter, addressing Bill. “We can do anything that’s...well, reasonably possible. Right now this is where you can use your skills to try and take an action. Whatever your point system is on the skill will sort of just help determine what goes down here, if you succeed or fail. So we roll the dice and compare the numbers to the die that’s rolled, still leaving it somewhat up to chance. Anything’s technically possible, just less likely if your numbers are lower. Make sense?" He paused, trying to work out a better explination. “Like...for instance, I’d like to light the lantern I’d gotten from the last town and investigate the path ahead to see if it’s safe. To do that I need to use my intelligence.” 

Ford nodded to Dipper, tossing the die to the ground. The two watched as the dark dice scattered across the board, before lying eventually on their respective numbers. Dipper hissed there in disappointment, and Ford gave the boy an apologetic smile. 

“Unfortunately, your lamp is out of oil and won’t light, whatever you try. The fog begins to become heavier, curiously enough.” His eyes all turned to meet Bill, still a soft amusement seeming to play there. “And you, Leviathan?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill managed to hold back the laugh at Tyrone and Smog of Delverine in the same sentences, mixing like oil and water when placed together. He did this pretending to cough in the crook of his arm, shoulders shaking, and then him clearing his throat right after as he opened his mouth to speak. “Leviathan would simply like to trudge forward. With no fear! He is prepared to risk his life over the potential riches he might discover, both in wealth and knowledge! Hear Hear!” 

It was unbeknownst to himself that the character could potentially die. Though, it’s not like his mindset would’ve changed even with this. Bill was Bill, regardless of the universe.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper resisted the urge to throw something at Bill to what was obviously a botched laugh, but Ford again didn’t seem to be paying mind. If nothing else, the demon seemed to be enjoying himself.. “Very well. You walk forward to find a great swamp stretching ahead, Leviathan. Distant figures flicker in and out within the darkness, creeping steadily forward. They do not appear human in any way. What is it you do?” 

Dipper waited on his end, scribbling something in the margins of his graph before pausing to chew at the butt of his pen distractedly.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Call out in an attempt at communication.” The initial response was to use Tyrone as a meat shield, but that could always be his final card to pull once things went awry. Besides, might not look that great sacrificing his.. uh, adventuring partner, so to speak.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Your charisma, then?” Ford grinned, still looking amused at Bill before a slithering snake of a cloth slid across the floor, running over Bill’s lap to grab at his character sheet, which then lifted for Ford to briefly look at. “Hm. Alright.” And he again tossed the dice to the board, both him and Dipper peering out for the results. Dipper tapped his pen to his chin. 

“Oh nice,” The teen commented with a bit of a grin. 

“Their voices are difficult to make out, gurgling their response to you Leviathan. But you find a voice entering your head, letting you know of a captured ruler of thiers, a queen, at the end of the fog...They beg you to rescue her and in return they will give you a great reward.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Ohoho.” Bill clasped his hands together, passing Dipper a brief look. “A damsel in distress! Very nice, but we won’t be doing work for _whatever_ reward around here. Leviathan asks specifically what will be exchanged for the woman’s safety, only then will he accept the quest if it meets his interests.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper rolled his eyes at that, but Ford nodded his ascent to the man. “They tell you they can grant you a magical item of theirs should she return safely, a weapon that would allow you fire whenever you wish it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Excellent. Leviathan accepts.” And, of course, later down the road, would rob the creature of their valuables _and_ take the woman with him, just for good measure. It all depended on how everything fell into place. “Wait, does my character come with a starter kit? Or do I just have some weird powers? If not, guess we’ll just have to use those hands for strangling!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper snorted, but he couldn’t exactly just leave Bill hanging and uniformed. “Yeah, you do, but your EXP points are at zero and you’re level one. So most of the things you get into will be more difficult until you gain more EXP and advance in your level. I added some things, a dagger, some light armor, gold coins, some potions...they’ll all be in your inventory on your character sheet.” Dipper gestured toward the graph at Bill’s side. 

Ford nodded, chuckling. “Excellent. And you, Tyrone?” 

Dipper looked briefly distracted, but considered, looking a bit more lighter at the question. “Uh. Yes, I guess even though Tyrone is...wary about this new adventurer, he agrees to go on the quest as well.” 

Ford gave the two a rather bracing grin at that, again the dice playing in his cloth and shadow woven fingers. 

“The creatures shift in the fog, melting down into the swamp. Abruptly, a path parts at its center, the swamp pulling to the sides to reveal a space to walk ahead. In your minds, these creatures warn of monsters and dangers that may lay ahead...” 

“Tyrone goes down the path towards adventure, thanking the creatures!” Dipper responded then confidently.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Fuck thy cretans!” Bill announced, a horrible Shakespearean accent accompanying the words. “They’re probably waiting to consume Tyrone and Leviathan’s eyeballs once we return! Hell, I smell traps afoot. Leviathan leads the way, already goddamn hostile! He might even turn on Tyrone! Who knows!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Despite himself, Dipper actually laughed at that, actually looking happy that Bill was, whether joking or not, having that much enthusiasm over the game. “I guess it’s a risk Tyrone is willing to take!” He grinned at the other bracingly. 

Even Ford looked quite a bit amused, tilting his head to Bill. “And does Leviathan dare to do anything about these theories? Or shall he simply continue to walk the uncertain path ahead? The two may see the shadows of these creatures in the walls of water as they walk.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“These creatures are unknown to Leviathan. He is not equipped with the right resources or time to make an attack! For this, he will continue ahead with the quest.” Tyrone being a meat shield was becoming more and more appealing as they went on. Truly his special card. “ _With_ his dagger in-hand. Yes. That.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper chuckled. “Alright. Tyrone follows along with his mysterious companion, though he readies himself in case of battle!” He actually swung his arm up at the words as if drawing some invisible sword, the enthusiasm clear in his tone. 

Ford on the other hand seemed to look on them in some amusement, strange in how invested he appeared. He chuckled before looking between them. “Hold on, you two. The fog begins to thicken, leaving everything dark and obscured...the path remains unmolested by danger, but it becomes disorienting to know where to walk. Ahead is a light, sparkling and inviting and shadows continue to shift within the walls of the water’s surface. How do you proceed?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Leviathan proceeds to shift his position to behind Tyrone.” Now or never. “For the buddy system,” Bill quickly followed up with, smiling, bothering to sling his arm around Dipper is the fakest way possible. A snake within the grass. “Since there’s no lantern, all we can do is hope for the best and continue on.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper eyed him darkly, scrunching his face in suspicion as Bill threw his arm around him, not buying it for a second. “Yeah, well...Tyrone’s a fighter, so he will gladly take point. He has plenty of armor, training and _weapons._ ” Was that a threat? Maybe. Possibly. Dipper wasn’t normally for the fighter’s class, but he’d suspected to traverse most of this game solo, and it was a decent enough class to get him through that without dying early in.

Ford was still rather amused at the pair frankly. Though his posture abruptly shifted and his hands came up, the shadows of threads weaving up as if snakes rearing to strike the pair and he grinned in the dramatics of it. “Without warning, a creature erupts from the swamp! The light used to draw unsuspecting victims close by, mistaking it for shelter. It attacks!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It actually managed to startle him, enough to almost accidentally strangle the teen in his arm. As soon as he gathered himself, Bill released a wild cackle, if not by Ford’s attractive display of power, then finally some excitement being brought into the game. “Slit its throat! I’m rolling to slit to slit its throat!” 

Was that even a thing? Could he act so hastily? This was supposed to be a separate character, not himself acting out violent tendencies onto an imaginary being.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper was choking slightly in the accidentally stranglehold. While he had been nervous at the sudden shift of snake like threads poised like shadows in the room for attack, he was also more used to the over the top displays by the demon in the game by now to at least be….fairly sure there wasn’t immediate danger. If he hadn’t been slightly choked out, he may have responded with his fighter class character. 

Ford rolled the dice in an expert fashion and the clatter to the board. He adjusted his glasses with a stray cloth, still grinning. “Unfortunately your attack is still too low! You _leap_ at the monster, aiming to slit it open with your dagger...but only graze it. With a great wave of its many claws, it throws you into the water! You are submerged in its depths.” 

Dipper managed to pull away long enough to both gasp for air and enthuse out, “Tyrone attacks! Slashing for the same place Leviathan attacked!” And he pumps a fist eagerly. 

Ford again scoops the dice, throwing them. 

“You make an impact, but only wound it. Another claw--FLASH, a great roar and it bears down to eat you, Tyrone!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Damnit! Uh, uhhh.” Bill was panicked, eyes searching around in hopes of inspiration for his next move. There’s not much to do, aside from the obvious, and now he’s struck with the fear of actually ruining his character on the first day. “Leviathan scrambles out the water, attempting for an attack from behind!” 

Worth of shot. Bill was holding onto Dipper like he’s his favorite toy, bouncing, eyes wide as those demon horns on his head began to slip off. “Oh god! Leviathan hasn’t even gotten married yet!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I dodge!” Dipper called out and grinned, even as he choked a bit at Bill’s clear second stranglehold, shoving at his friend. “And--try to counter attack--” And he barely gets that out as he tries to, still grinning and clearly in a lighthearted gesture, still shove Bill off of him. 

“Leviathan swims from the surface of the water, intent on attacking the creature from behind.” Ford again scooped the dice up and thrust them to the gameboard in a series of clacking, where they finally land. The wild strands of dark, impossible coils of cloth again spring to the air dangerously around them, a shadow masking the floor, dancing and poised as Ford brings his hands out dramatically, his extra eyes glowing a bit deeper, sharper, wider, “He drives his dagger deep into the monster's back, and it screams....” He again gathers the dice, throwing them to the ground, “Tyrone manages to dodge! But just barely, a claw injuring his arm as he slashes his great sword at the creature’s face. It roars its defiance, attempting to shake Leviathan off and strike the fighter in front!!” Another roll. “It hits Tyrone with beastly claws, throwing him into the depths of the swamp, but Leviathan manages to hold onto the creature’s back.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s laughter had somewhat matched the scene, as crazy as it sounded, some genuine excitement sprouting. The headband had entirely fallen off once he’s shoved away from Dipper, not deterred as he pointed an enthusiastic index finger in the air. When Bill spoke, there’s some morbid interest laced within the darker words, eyes flickering with malicious intent. In game, obviously. “Leviathan rips the dagger out, clean, going for a rinse and repeat of slitting the creature’s throat with no hesitation!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford’s shadowed clothes wreathed over the dice, throwing them once more as both he and Dipper looked on, Dipper definitely in some amount of anticipation for the scene. A baited breath later and the dice finally came to a pause, revealing a promising set of numbers. Ford chuckled, grinning a sleak, subtle thing, the glow of each of his different colored eyes still magnified, as well as the shadows that cast wide and distorted, enveloping the room as if to steal the light from every which way. It gave an even more eerie, deadly atmosphere to the space as he said, a bit too softly and cleanly, “The creature’s throat is slit. It jerks in your grip, green blood gushing from the open wound, covering the ground below freely...With a wail while it tries to buck you off.” Another roll of the dice and he continued, “You’re thrown off once more, into the icy depths of the swamp, and yet it is too late for the beast. As it thrashes, it loses too much blood and falls...still. Quiet.” 

Dipper stared, eyes wide, looking on in anticipation before speaking up. “Tyrone...Tyrone tries to swim out of the swamp, back to the path where the creature lays.” Ford obliges and another pair of dice are tossed. 

“You manage it, however you are drained and weak from the battle. The swamp has stolen a deal of your energy.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Success! Always go for the jugular, kid!” It was basically his victory screech. If possible, he would make a crown float above his head, party confetti and all flying down below in celebration of his first win in the game. There’s a little dance going on, a shimmy, him creating a new set of lyrics for a song he created on the dime. Something about _”slit throats, Leviathan gloats, he made them gargle blood and choke.”_ Morbid, but.. perhaps it could be seen as wholesome from a different perspective. One that was more familiar with the weirdness Bill often expressed. “Leviathan tries removing himself from the gross waters as well. C’mon, give me a good number.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper snorted, but he couldn’t lie. He was entirely too amused. He actually had to laugh as Bill started doing some impromptu dance with song included. “Dude, _gross._ ” But the words were said with a grin. Ford meanwhile rolled the dice, and it seemed to give decent enough set of numbers. 

“You too are drained of health and energy, but swim out from the thick waters of the swamp and back onto the path. Congratulations on surviving.” Ford actually sounded as if he meant it, turning his gaze to Bill with a subtle hint of amusement. “Something glimmers in the mouth of the now dead beast at your feet.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Leviathan nears this discovery, kneeling down to retrieve whatever this thing might be .” Bill soon followed up quickly after, eyes training from his character sheet to Ford, almost mischievous in nature. “Is there a reward outside this game? Hm? I’m very curious. What do I get instead of a five second elation?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper put a palm to his face as Ford chuckled. “Oh? Was there something you had in mind, Bill.” It wasn’t an innuendo. Stanford was far too...alien for such concepts. But he was amused and dare he even say it, enjoying himself here. This current human he was bound to, on any level, joining in for the game was something he had not expected. But he couldn’t lie. He was having a good time. It was hard not to for his favorite game since he was just a small spawn of hell, as they call it. 

Dipper meanwhile gave Bill a hard “look,” as if both commanding and begging him to just not go there. ‘ _Don’t do it,'_ He practically begged as if the telekinesis could reach the other.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yes, of course. What type of game would this be without an actual consequence and reward system that doesn’t transfer to reality?” Playing his cards already, and from the way he eyed Ford, which was nothing short of explicit, it was safe to say things would be taking a turn eventually. “The reward can be of one’s choosing, but the consequence, I believe, should be given by our dungeon master over here.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Interesting.” Ford mused, the smile still playing there on his lips, the dark, thick ropey threads of his body dancing listless through the air as if in thought. “Alright, Cipher. However, I have to ask...would this...consequence also be transferred to the real world?” Ford was seemingly rather enamored with the idea, playing with it in his mind as he spoke. “And while it shouldn’t need to be said, obviously there must be limits?” 

Dipper’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Bill, obviously seeing entirely through the ruse. It wasn’t a hard one to even _see_ . God, even the way Bill was _looking_ at Ford. God. He just kept giving him a hard, accusing look despite the situation. “Yeah, Bill.” He said tersely, through biting down. “Just what “limits” are in this system.” All the while trying to send another message that basically translated to ‘ _This is not going to turn out well, stop while you’re ahead._ ’

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s laugh was dark, more or less him flirting in his strange way. This wouldn’t be picked up by Ford, but he _was_ expecting his dear partner to the side to catch up on the vibes practically radiating off his body. Dipper’s glare and worries went purposefully unnoticed, especially as Bill leaned in, chuckling, brows lowering in interest. “ _Oh yes,_ ” he drawled. “The limits are rather obvious. No life-threatening, bone breaking, mental health ruining situations...” Bill paused. “For Dipper,” he finished with, grinning. “Me? Ah, well. Y’know _me._ I’m fair game! A box filled with prizes. I _would_ like my reward however. Starting now. And what exactly _is_ this reward, you might ask?” 

Bill looked like he was about to say something deplorable. Absolutely horrible until he finally spoke again. “I want my hand held for fifteen minutes.” Obviously. “Life’s little simple pleasures, Ford.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper’s gaze narrowed, continuing to shoot the other dark, stern looks and he stared a second at Bill basically offering his life and health over for a...a _game._ “Dude, what, hey, come on. No one should be threatened for any of this.” He tried, sounding far more confident than usual, maybe a bit offended and...well, pushing in the idea that hey, maybe _no one_ should get mentally scarred or otherwise damaged for life over this. But then he tensed at the build up, at that _look_ that leered from Bill as if he were about to jump Ford right then and there, Dipper couldn’t help but splutter as the man spoke before looking at Bill as if he’d lost his mind or...as if he wasn’t even sure what to make of the situation. _Hand holding?_ God. He could not believe this. Bill really _was_ Mabel with a crush. 

Ford’s brows went up, marking above his glasses at Bill’s requests. He studied the other for a long, solemn moment, a silence settling there between the three, something practically chilling left behind. His gaze shifted briefly to Dipper, before returning to the human who now shared a bond with him. And after a pause, he smiled. 

“Very well. I feel as if you may be wasting your reward however, Bill.” But it didn’t look as if he would be complaining, still his smile rather amused. It was something, the human’s odd requests, certainly. And more and more, perhaps it was becoming furtheringly amusing from time to time. Perhaps even sparking a curiosity from Ford. The man brought a “hand” (as much as one could call it such) out and, unnaturally, the arms of it spread longer, curling out from his sleeves to eventually rest against Bill’s.

They held a certain chill to them, that _same_ chill, a cool thing, though Ford would also imagine it to be something familiar for Bill by now. After all, his touch...was Bill’s touch. The same energy that pooled and ebbed from the long black ropes of cloth like flesh was the very one that radiated inside Bill now, a part of him, mingled there between the two. The cold would therefore not be biting, not radiant, not harsh, but perhaps even welcoming, familiar. Like an old friend. The contact alone seemed to rekindle the reality of the bond the two had forged, a certain spark, a flare of electricity that heightened between them, as if one circuit connected by another. Even after death, this same pulse of mingled auras would remain like this. To break it would be like separating two liquids that had managed to pool into one - unmanageable. Impossible. Entangled far too deep to ever be unwoven again by now. 

“And as for what the beast had in its mouth...it would be another light that breaks through the fog, chasing it with every step. One that you can carry with you eternally through both fog and darkness alike.” He smiled at Bill, and found, as it was, as it happened in these arrangements, to settle into the touch of the other. Even the usually fretful, yet now rather calm slitherings of his body seemed to settle further, plying themselves against the ground as if stretching to relax before an open fireplace. A somewhat subtle, but still very noticeable difference.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s face was red. A hot shade, but he was comfortable, relaxed, even, feeling Ford’s hand move against his own, Dipper’s voice only serving as background noise in the moment that marked a milestone. Perhaps he pushed it, positioning his hand to intertwine their.. what, fingers? Close enough to fingers. Either way, he was clearly immensely satisfied by his choice of reward, a rather stupid smile plastered onto his face as he belatedly realized Dipper was speaking to him. 

“Don’t worry, kid.” God, gross. His voice was too sweet, like dipped in honey and smothered with powdered sugar. It was as lovesick as one got. “I won’t die. Or get impaled, hopefully. Can’t get anymore insane than I already am! I’m a man of adventure. You don’t get this cocky until you accidentally get engaged in a polyamorous relationship at a drunken night in Vegas, only to find out later your fiancé was a notorious kidnapper and the other one smuggled drugs inside the corpses of women in their early twenties. Only brunettes. A story for another day!” 

At least.. Bill was enjoying himself. That’s all that mattered, right? “Excellent. Leviathan, in an act of good faith, allows this light to be given to Tyrone before their inevitable very dramatic betrayal.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper’s eyes narrowed further and he just gave the other that same blatant and warning look, actually pulling a face at just how _lovesick_ Bill sounded then. God in heaven. Even the following “life lesson” story or he guessed if you could even call it that didn’t seem to pull Dipper away from just how… _head over heels_ Bill looked in that moment. Even _he_ didn’t get this bad. Hell, only Mabel ever seemed to get to this level of “crush crazy” which was saying something. 

“Yeah, well, I’d still feel better if we weren’t playing for anything...that risky.” He glanced at Ford uncertainly, trying to silently voice the concern. 

“Do not be concerned, Dipper.” The demon reassured the other, easily picking up on the worry. “I may have specific ideas for consequences in mind, but have no plans to...permanently disfigure or to deeply harm Cipher.” He confided to the boy, allowing for Bill to intertwine his fingers against the long strands just the same. “It would be counterproductive entirely to our arrangement.” 

Dipper blinked. 

“Uh...arrangement?” He asked hastily, eyeing Bill for a good moment, the confusion showing on his face, apparently it being enough to distract him from said promises of future betrayal and all.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The admiring gaze had ceased all in that moment, especially the “do you feel the chemistry?” comment threatening to break through, which, logically, they did have a literal connection from their contracted bond, so maybe the comment would’ve been answered in such a way regardless. Bill blinked, obviously not bothering to look Dipper directly in the eye. He wasn’t ashamed for the deal itself, instead of not letting Dipper in on it. In his defense, _technically_ he told Dipper with the marriage comments. They only weren’t, you know, blunt on the actual conditions. 

“Surprise..?” Bill put awkwardly. “We’re uh.. together. All the explanation needed. Nothing else! Nope!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Wait...wait, wait. Arrangement as in…” His eyes narrowed further, a stirring suspicion settling in there against him. “You...you didn’t make a _deal_ , did you?” He asked then, a darker edge of very disbelief in his tone, something clear, sharp and very dangerous in warning, like the calming threat before a storm. 

Ford for his part studied the pair, tipping his head somewhat curiously but did not speak up just then. He couldn’t say he particularly understood why Bill was keeping this from the boy, nor had he thought he would, but now that it became apparent...he didn’t bother to continue the explanation, rather instead remained where he was. Still the thick woven strands of his flesh lazily twirling and twitching at the floor, like a mass of calmed cats, gentle there at the surface. Something else interesting in itself, but perhaps a bit removed from the situation at hand as he distracted himself with looking down at the journal he’d brought, “fingers” weaving their way through the pages. Allowing Bill to take care of this.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Pine Tree.. _buddy._ Pal. Do I look like someone who would make a deal with a demon? Haha, don’t answer that.” The grip on Ford’s hand had tightened, though not intentionally. More of a coping device, or simply a display of his sudden discomfort of being caught. Bill’s eyes went literally everywhere in the room except on Dipper. “Look— look,” he spluttered, “You know, I’m.. haha. I’m getting pretty old. There comes a time where someone falls in love, then sacrifices everything just to be with that person—“ partially correct. Bill’s need of obtaining power outweighed his feelings for Ford by a mile. It’s just something he wouldn’t outwardly admit. “And uhhh. Hey now. I’m almost FORTY. Forty! You don’t get off trying to scold me for my life choices!” 

His attempt at a more “parental” tone had failed. Miserably.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You…. _didn’t._ ” There was definitely something cold, something even chilling in his voice as he got to his feet, looking down at the other. “Tell me you didn’t. _Tell me you_ **_didn’t_ ** _make a_ **_DEAL_ ** _with the literal_ **_devil._ **” He wanted Bill to tell him he hadn’t. That this was a mistake. He wanted him to deny it, more than anything, but even more than that, he already had his answer. Had it in the way the other wouldn’t even properly look at him, was jumping around through excuses as if he couldn’t get past them fast enough. And the cold there seemed almost dangerous. 

Perhaps they were a couple, if there was anything to be said by how Ford seemed to simply allow Bill to take lead on the situation, still flipping idly through his notes, however keeping his hand just as it was in the other’s regardless, only glancing up briefly as Bill’s fingers gripped against his, yet certainly not feeling particularly drawn into getting in the middle of the situation. He just allowed Bill to continue to be the one to handle it in whatever way it was he wished to for now.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill gazed up at Dipper, expression deflating. The roles were supposed to be reversed. Supposed to be the other way around, with Dipper being reckless, but, well, the same mistakes were being repeated, except on far more deadly terms he couldn’t return from. 

And that’s okay. It was fine. His sense of self-preservation was always dulled somewhat, a major flaw in itself that _still_ hadn’t been fixed these passing years. He frowned, guilt washing over him like a tidal wave. If he could, he would curl into a ball until ceasing to exist. “I.. kid. Can we talk about this later?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper seemed to war, to struggle with himself, grasping at these fraying strands of his emotions as they tore over him. How _could_ he--how **_could_ ** he--What was Bill **_thinking!?_ ** He had a rare, entirely uncharacteristic moment where he wanted to reach out and shake Bill. Shake him stupid and yell at him, throw him against whatever was nearby in the force of it. He could hardly suppress the impulse or the emotions, growling out finally in suppressed fury, “Get _out_ .” He wasn’t sure what came over him, the strength of it, but he couldn’t even _deal_ with this right now without exploding or tearing out his own hair, the emotions still warring through him too strongly. 

Whatever anyone might say about Dipper, about Bill, about any of this or the horrible, downright abysmal influence Bill also may have on him, there was a very tangible, inexplicable relationship there. A strong one. One he might bicker about, joke about, groan and roll his eyes about, but one that _meant_ something. Meant _a lot_ , actually, if he were being downright honest. When Mabel had given up mystery hunting in the name of real life and friends, when he’d been left the odd man out (wasn’t uncommon for Dipper either, he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly), when he’d been left to his own devices, it had been the other in front of him that had somehow stumbled and stormed and fallen into his life. Bill was more than that weird older guy who did adventures and mysteries and explorations with. Bill was...was almost like _family_ . He was like _his friend_ , and he _liked_ Bill, he really enjoyed his company, craziness and all. He was like his brother, like an uncle, like some...something that mattered to him. And for someone who really didn’t _have_ friends, it meant a whole hell of a lot to him. More than he’d admit.

He gestured toward the door, fighting with himself. He could hardly handle the emotions of it, the anger of it, or the sheer stupid disbelief in that moment. He _needed_ to cool down without risk of exploding, even possibly offending the demon that sat next to them, and also possibly getting both of them killed.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Oh. 

That was.. a first for them. Normally this was amongst other parts of town, places he’s ran through, the strangers who took one dip into the wickedness of his personality before discarding him in acidic tones and threats. His own family members were no exception, but it’s not like Bill hadn’t done the same. Leaving without notice. Breaking off week old relationships once he was bored or satisfied. This was.. painful, for once. A type where he honestly couldn’t decipher through it all in such short notice, nor would he willingly express vulnerability on that level. “Dipper,” Bill tried, parting from Ford as moved to his feet. He held his hands up placatingly, taking a step forward. 

“Dipper, calm down. Calm down and talk to me. You’re just.. emotional right now. You don’t mean that.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Not **_forever_ ** dipshit, I mean _now._ ” He growled, his swirling of emotions getting the better of him as his tone darkened, threatening on the anger that raged there. He had to _think_ , he had to punch something maybe or yell or stomp around, tear out his own hair, didn’t Bill _see that?_ It seemed so obvious to Dipper in that moment that he couldn’t do _anything_ with the other there that wouldn’t involve shaking him senseless or possibly lose himself enough to frustrate or offend the dangerous possibly life threatening demon just beside the two of them and cascade this stupidity into a _whole new level_ of it all.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s eyebrows raised, particularly at being called a dipshit. Was he supposed to scold there? Lay down the law in order to establish dominance in their brotherly/uncle/dad(he had yet to decide on a fitting title) feud? Why was he thinking of Dipper like a wild animal to be tamed? Teenagers weren’t that, sorta. His brain was beginning to short circuit, breaking away from common sense all together at the worst of times, but there’s enough remaining for him to sigh, snatch his headband, and relent into leaving. 

“I’m just SAYING.” Bill should stop speaking. Getting the last word in was always something he needed to do in arguments, even if it bit him in the ass later. “Mabel wouldn’t be treating me this way! She would respect my decisions!” Bill’s voice grew distant as he furthered along down the hall, back to the bottom floor. “I’m in my thirties!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Goodbye_ , Bill.” He called through grit teeth after him, voice grating and entirely not prepared to deal with any of this, shutting his bedroom door behind him, shaking as if simply an entire ball of nerves. He stood for a moment like that, wrestling and fighting through his emotions, all but silent in the reality of this whole thing even if the strength of his thoughts seemed like a trumpet band bursting through his brain. 

Finally he spoke, slouching on himself just slightly. “Is it…” He looked behind him, still struggling with his feelings, “Is it true? Did he...make a deal with you...?” 

Ford, who had been sitting exactly as he was the entirety of the time, surveyed Mason Pines. Kept him in his calculated gaze, still, unreadable in that moment but gave ascent with a small nod of his head. It made his heart sink, go entirely cold. Even though the truth of it had already been revealed all too clearly, actually seeing the demon confirm it...it hit a whole new level of low. He swallowed. “And...and it can’t...be broken, right?” There was another pause there. 

“...No. It cannot.” Ford confirmed calmly. Dipper slouched against the door, looking torn. 

“...Can I...can I ask what that means?” He wasn’t even sure how to approach this. How to ask Ford about this. The anger and frustration still there, but biting further beneath the surface compared to when Bill and his stupid face with this dumbass and horrific problem had been sitting there right in front of him. Ford considered the silence for a moment, before again speaking once more.

“It means we are bound for eternity, in many ways. It means I am...his guide, his teacher and him my pupil. It means we have made an arrangement inside of this. It means many things, Dipper Pines.” It meant that Bill would one day come upon great power. It meant that Ford would mold him in such ways, strengthen him in such ways, create in Bill a being worth such titles. Carefully. In time. And in harshness of the realities that lay ahead. As a good teacher would. 

Dipper slumped further on himself. And hesitated. “God...that idiot.” He whispered, voice torn, lost, still in remnants of anger filtering there. “You know he’s basically in love with you, right?” He put out there blankly. 

Ford considered him. “I am aware, yes.” 

“Do you...realize what that _means?_ Exactly?” He pressed, studying the creature. 

Ford stared and the blankness in his features, in his face seemed to tell Dipper that...no, no he didn’t. Not at all, it looked like. And Dipper fretted there, a silence settling once more, but it was a far more difficult, warring of a thing. 

“Just...just please, _please_ ... **_please_ ** be good to him. Please.” It was also whispered, and he really hated himself, hated _Bill_ with his stupid idiotic crazy ass chaotic and always getting into deliberate trouble dumbass self...for how _desperate_ he sounded. 

Another silence pulled there between them, heavy in his own desperation. 

“....I will.” Ford promised.

Dipper paused there against the words, but pressed on. 

“...Please. Just...don’t hurt him.” 

Hurt? Well. There were many ways to interpret the word. Many, many ways. Necessary ways. Ways that furthered a man or simply broke him. Things that lay beyond any mortal definition or understanding.

“...I will not.” And in the end, in his _own ways_ this was true. And it was all that was all that could be said on the matter.


	5. Of Demons and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford needs proof of Bill's convictions in basically the worst ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rex: Short chapter! And just a lot more to come when I get around to it smh. Thanks for everyone interested in our nonsense, it is crazy fun to write.

This was a dilemma. The kid did mention this little tantrum wouldn’t last forever, and naturally Bill would be expecting an apologetic gift card on his front step (who was he kidding) or for the regular conversations to reboot up tomorrow. Awkwardly, but with time they’ll revert back to the geeky and gentleman mystery duo. It’s a shame, really, being he put all this effort that was approximately fifteen minutes and four seconds into his demon horns. All to be pushed out Dipper’s house for actually _being_ with one. A hypocrite in the making, Bill rationalized. 

The rest of his evening hadn’t comprised of much. The usual. Him buried deep in his notes, desk littered in pencils, papers, and paper balls he grew lazier and lazier with aiming towards the bin with. Ford’s section had been updated, an unnecessarily detailed portion, noting each change in expression, gesture, tone shift, all of it. There’s a side piece where he jotted down the date, extra internal thoughts on the matter, including Dipper’s tirade that was worded rather sarcastically and clipped into merely a ten second read. Eventually the sleep deprivation happened to catch up, caffeine no longer viable as his face gradually inched closer to the cool surface of the desk. Soon to be pressed against it, and soon for Bill to be sleeping soundly. 

Until, well. He awoke in a space he felt familiar with, but at the same time didn’t.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The fire danced warm, green flames against the canvas of black marble and dark, sleek shades of colors stained all around. Ford sat in one of the chairs in the cast of light, a book at his lap, leg crossed as he examined its pages, whispers of movement about him as he idly poured through its contents. He didn’t glance up as Bill appeared into the scene, however there was a table at the center of the chairs before the fire, a chess game and two teacups respectively at either end, a teapot painted in golds, reds and blacks floating at the center of it within the air, idly, waiting, steam pluming up into the surface of the empty air, the scene and decor still reflecting that same somewhat earthy, homey manner to it all.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill was disoriented upon first arrival, perturbed by the sudden change of scenery. It took some decent adjusting, him blearily searching around, at the board, chairs, then Ford, who had managed to somewhat ease his mind in the abrupt process of it all, yet not enough to spark his usual initiation of a conversation. He took an experimental step forward, fingers barely grazing his forehead as he situated himself across the table, peering down into a teacup. 

There was a lack of familiar greetings on his side, perhaps a more obvious shift in his mood from this evening. Bill was quiet, leaning back, eyes mindlessly focusing on the source of light within the room.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford glanced up, his features cast somewhat in the dark of shadows, the dancing of firelight flickering between the blacks and lights of his features. Only his many eyes above his head shone with a glow of light and color to break through it all, each of them fixed on Bill rather than in their typical listless, unpredictable state. Instead they studied Bill, as if an animal patiently in watch, so very much in contrast to their more at ease appearing owner. 

The tea pot above the chessboard floated down as if of its own accord to Bill’s cup, pouring a generous helping of soft, red liquid into it before retreating once more above the table. Ford still didn’t speak for some time, seeming content in the silence, comfortable there to simply peruse his book within it. After a final brief pause however, he spoke, his voice easy and calm. 

“You’re rather quiet tonight.” He commented lightly.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Mm,” was the tired response at first, not meant to intentionally outright dismiss Ford’s observation. Bill does do the pleasure of taking the cup into his hands once filled, simply allowing the steam to kiss his face, warming it. The little pleasures in life. “...One of those days,” he eventually offered, eyes searching up to get an inspection of the demon. Only a brief one, some memories from earlier bleeding in here and there. “Already missing me being a flirt? I’m quite the charmer, if you didn’t know.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford surveyed Bill carefully, giving a very slight nod to the first comment, “Indeed.” He agreed then. A slight smile cornered his mouth at the next, perhaps a touch on amused for the human’s usual rantings, even if they were more heavy tonight. He was admittedly, even if only just slightly, only barely, more comfortable with the human’s presence. Perhaps the game had been good for them, up to the point where Mason had found protest in things, at the very least. 

After the moment, he considered his next words. “If you would prefer it, there seems to be some sense in taking this night a little...easier. Once you are fully prepared we may move on to begin lessons, that is to say, should you still wish for them.” A sliver, a snake of a rope like thread wove against the book, flipping the page with ease as he glanced down to it. All the while his eyes, the ones over his head kept staring in full color, the whispered shadows of his body gently squirming against him all the same. “A game of chess, I thought, perhaps?” He gestured with his open shadows of a “hand” toward the table before lifting his own cup of tea to his lips.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I, uh.” Bill stared into the cup, gazing at the rippled reflection. He felt... not there, exactly, like he’s no longer capable of putting thought and thought together in one coherent sentence. It’s a frustrating state, one that repeatedly knocked him upside the head. “Yes.” It’s such an airy response. “Always yes. Chess sounds lovely. I uh. I think this would be the perfect time, if you would allow me, to conduct an interview.“ 

That was one of the things. A better introduction to Ford before delving into work.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It seemed again somewhat amusing to the demon, Bill’s suggestion, and he eventually set the book aside gently where it floated a moment in the air before promptly shooting off to find the space in this library to which it belonged. “An interview…?” He mused idly, and sat back a bit in thought. “Well. I...suppose it could not hurt. After all in light of our arrangement I have little doubt we will be spending a great deal of time together, Cipher. Perhaps we can both conduct our own...interviews of sorts, should you be willing.” And Ford lifted a shadowy hand to offer Bill the first move on the chess board, a polite, encouraging gesture.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Oh wow. You’re going to ask questions about _me_ ? Little ole me?” Bill took a white pawn into his hand, moving it directly forward one square. The tea warmed his throat. Dream throat? Same thing. “I’d like to start simple. Little things before moving into uncharted territory. For instance, what’s your favorite food? Do you _need_ any substance to sustain yourself? Or do you just.. exist. Off nothing.” 

Simple. Little things he could easily jot down later once alone.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford actually let out a brief bark of laughter at that. His smile turned a bit wolfish and he surveyed the other there, one dark pawn of his own balanced in one of the twisting threads from his chest, gaze a bit more light. “What do I eat? I had expected something...perhaps more profound.” And still grinning he leaned back. “Well. It is true that I consume the cosmic energies of the vast threads of this reality, Cipher. A part of my being is also nothing but such endless energies coalesced from the darkness into form, caught through the great turmoil of conflicting forces, the very fabric of the existence that spirals and churns around us at every given moment.” He informed the other, placing the pawn neatly against the board, his focus far more to play and push Bill, to test him, to see which pieces he chose to sacrifice, where his mind led him to than any given desire to actually defeat the mortal. If he wanted, it would have been a laughable trifle of a thing. Simple to idiocy. And such things were not what drew to him. “However…” He momentarily mused, “Yes, I can eat, I suppose, if I wished to.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Another pawn was moved as he mulled over the recent information given, sipping his tea thoughtfully, the smile widening if only by a centimeter. “Can’t say I’ve ever experienced the decadence of cosmic energies before, Ford.” It sounds delightfully exotic. A meal he would have to pass up in the meantime. Bill watched carefully, some competitiveness glinting his brown eyes. “I’ll have to cook for you sometime then,” he decided on, setting the cup down. “I know you said love is a little lost on you, but you mentioned a brother earlier. A sibling. Big thing for humans, y’know? Do you have a mom? Dad? How do those feelings form for them, if not love?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

That...caused Ford to falter. Where he’d been a bit curious, a bit amused in the interviewing game beforehand, he suddenly paused, expression falling, his many eyes abruptly dimming, growing listless, the tea cup pausing as he’d been bringing it back up to his mouth. A rustling of the shadows of his form were the only movement then, too the only notion that existed for a moment in the crackling of the harth, expression entirely unreadable. Gently he placed his teacup back down to the saucer it came from. 

His...family. He frowned at the chessboard, mulling it over. How many eons had it been since he’d spoken about them? Talked about them? Stanley was to be seen every now and then, in and out of his life, however...it was a fleeting thing. One often met with resentment between them. And his father...so much longer. He finally looked up, expression flat, still seemingly difficult to decipher. “Do you know, I believe it is my turn to ask a question about you, William.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill... sorta knew. 

Not anything specifically, as details would always be lost, but he recognized the face of a man who no longer remained in consistent contact with his family. The lack of response, no immediate shift in expression. The details that entailed afterwards could range from a multitude of reasonings, either good or bad, one he decided not to pry into for the sake of keeping the lighthearted atmosphere intact. 

His head tilted to the side, curious. “I’m open like a book. Feel free to hit me with the questions.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It was perhaps for the better the human didn’t pry. He sat back, folding his arms. “Alright then Cipher...if I may ask, just what draws you to this power you seek, do you know this? More importantly....how far would you be willing to _go_ for it?” He pried then, finally moving his piece against the board with no real glance or attention paid toward it. In honesty he already saw the answer clearly, as evidence to Bill still remaining sane in the bond they shared, in the vast infinity between them. It was an obvious thing to Ford, and one felt so profoundly felt from the human upon their bonding as well. One he’d seen dancing there beneath the surface, sensed there long before, and what had ultimately made the decision for them entering this relationship. Ambition. Strong, vibrant, real. Enticing almost.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“The high,” Bill answered easily. It was the half-truth, though still played a rather large role in his overall decision. Bill examined the board, humming, going for a more riskier move as he placed a piece closer to Ford’s side. “To be worshipped, held above on an untouchable pedestal. To roam freely, unbound by universes, dimensions, and gods. Crushing all who oppose me in the soft flesh of my palm, hopefully one that sports a matching wedding ring with you. Plenty of reasons.” There’s a soft laugh, something a little deeper hidden beneath it. “Anything. And when I mean anything, I mean _anything._ “

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

There’s a very real, very bracing grin then, a laugh on Ford’s voice, as if entirely, far too pleased with Bill’s answer. “ _Oh?_ Really. And I suppose you must know the sort of price to be _paid_ for such an ambition, Bill? You cannot tell me you do not. You cannot tell me you are not aware of the levels you would need to embark on, the aspects changed, the impossibilities torn and destroyed, the things I would need to _break_ you into for such a dream.” He seemed to hum with a different energy then, a writhing of his dark, living threads and strands flashing and weaving, a very dark, very threaded, eager and living, fire of a thing held between them. Those many eyes, the ones that had dimmed were awake again, glowing with life, pupils slit dangerously in the human’s direction. “And tell me. How do you propose you become a god, Bill, when hardly a human before you has ever reached such lengths. How do you propose you rule the cosmos as a mortal when beings your superior struggle in the face of it. Tell me that. Tell me how it is possible for a mortal, you who flash in a moment of time in the great unending vast of the cosmos could ever achieve these ambitions.” But he grinned wolfish and full as he asked it, seemingly still far too pleased, a dark look burning in his expression. “It seems to me that my “hand in marriage” would be the easiest prospect, a thing too to be said in these ideas of yours.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It’s an abrupt reaction deep within himself, fumbling, stirring around like an explosion readying to implode on himself at the triggering questions being handed. The lack of composure would be apologized for later, a strange disconnect with his physical and mental state being represented so _openly._ Utterly raw in all its exposure. His crazed eyes dilated, rattling hands slamming down onto the table as he stood in one motion, cups knocking against one another at the force. His breathing became difficult— as difficult as it could be in dreamscape, yet his body outside this realm had a major jump in heart rate. Enough to almost knock it from its slumber. 

It’s.. unplanned. This response. Mortifying and dangerous at best, but in the moment he’s frantic, unthinking, staring at Ford with an intensity of a thousand suns. A glimpse into the teetering edge of his insanity. 

“Stripping away my humanity,” Bill drawled, a darkness spilling from the words that he couldn’t even recognize as himself. His grin stretched.. oh, perhaps not natural. Perhaps not a correct representation of how a more realistic one would look outside this place. “I’ll surpass all before me, Ford. I’m almost _offended_ you seem to be putting me on the same lengths of the rest! I thought we were growing a connection.” He shouldn’t be speaking this way, towards a creature who could rip him in three. Suicidal. Per the norm of his antics, but this entirely marked for a torturous death. “What’s that? Got no faith in me?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

A stillness met the air. A quietness after Bill’s outburst, Ford simply sitting there as he was, a certain sharpness, dark, glowing harsh and dangerous settled there in his gaze. And a grin still bearing his face, surveying the human. Analyzing him. Was it all just posturing? Was the anger a sign of _weakness_ , a sign of doubt from the mortal? Or did Bill truly believe those words. Was he afraid…? Or so confident that this brazen notion, the very idea that they would be unreachable seemed beyond him. Impossible to deny. He wanted to know. He wanted to _see._

Ford got to his feet then, a subtle wave of his hand signalling the abrupt vanishing of the table, the chairs, the chess board as if they were nothing but a mirage. He watched Bill and there too was a certain eagerness reflecting deeply in those eyes. 

“Tell me. Do you mean it? Do you honestly mean it, Bill Cipher. Or are you afraid. Are you afraid of this path you’ve chosen to take, the goals you’ve set. Afraid of falling backwards.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I believe it’s my turn to ask a question.” Bill straightened his posture at the lack of solid support. His nature still ran wild, but his tone, at the very least, held something playful as adrenaline coursed throughout him. He adjusted his collar, grinning toothily. “It’s a back and forth type of interview. Did you forget?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He chuckled at that, but his posture shifted slightly, becoming a bit less heightened and alert. “Oh? Yes, well, I suppose you’re right. It is your turn to ask me something.” And he gestured, nodding. “Then please. Ask your question, Cipher. I’ll answer as honestly as I can.” The smile remained on his face and he still surveyed the other carefully, seemingly trying to narrow down, trying to sense, trying to feel every reaction, pinpoint the reality of where Bill currently stood in this situation.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Just what _was_ running through Bill’s head? A mess of things, from the clusterfuck of destruction, suicide, murder, dictatorship with a hint of spicy romance pertaining to whichever ritual sacrifices occurred in the spur of the moment. Nothing remained. Nothing sat still, always ever changing. It was torture. “Hypothetically speaking, if I _did_ manage to surpass you, what would you feel? Happiness? Would you be scared? Realized you’ve released the reckoning onto the earth? I’m quite curious how deep this relationship will go. If there’s loyalty. If you think that’s within me, or if it’s even within you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He chuckled. “I would feel nothing of the sort. I think it’s safe to say most of that is inconsequential to me. I’ve lived far since this galaxy has begun spinning, Cipher, and will long after it dies and burns cold. Such ideas are entirely trivial.” But he was still grinning there, a fierce thing, something dark dancing there still against his features. “But I will tell you this. If you were to surpass such goals, I would gladly be the one to mold you to that space, William. And please don’t mistake it. Regardless of your achievements or powers, in many ways, you will never surpass me.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Oh._ Oh, _you_ are just _so_ —“ Bill stopped himself, settling with pointing an index finger at Ford instead, knocking it up and down, laughing quietly. Darkly. Mischievously. He naturally took it as a challenge, and as per the Cipher way, would do any and everything in order to prove the demon wrong. “You have _no_ idea how bad I want to fornicate right now. Every act of adultery, Ford. My nerves are _rattled_ at this.” Unnecessary, but still. Him accepting the challenge was all the same in spite of the explicitness leaving his mouth. “We will see about that! You have no idea just _who_ I am.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh? Then _show me._ Because all of this is simply words, Cipher. Meaningless things.” 

Abruptly his features shifted, each of the flashing ropes of cloth like flesh springing, arching wildly into the air, circling to point, to raise, like vipers on the verge of striking down, of killing, and again the familiar shadows swelled, flooding the room as ford swept one leg behind him in a fighting stance, teeth showing on his dark girn. “Show me, William. What this means to you. What sort of man or being you mean to become.” A series of weapons appeared in the air before Bill, of many different variables imaginable. And still a certain fire of interest shone in Ford’s eyes, all the while the multiple ones above slits, seeming almost animal in their hunger.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

That’s all he needed. That one last push, that tip into madness of his partner for all eternity. Those worries melted away: the fear of death, Dipper, his own past, any relationship hanging on by a dingy thread. None of it mattered in this moment as brown eyes met one’s of the devil. Barely a second is wasted before Bill sprung into the air, taking hold of some makeshift gun and axe that took aflame once encased in his grip. Raucous cackles filled the high tensioned air as he aimed at Ford, one eye closed, an impressive shot following through with one pull of the trigger.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford’s grin bit in a stark thrill, slipping at his lips with a dribble of blood blossoming there held against that same dark eager mirth before his image flashed, impossibly fast, impossibly blurred, like a hush of rustling snakes, as if a great fluid shadow shifting through the darkness as if it were apart of him entirely. The flame of the fire’s light became muted, colder, dimming and flickering in the expanse of the spilling shadows, the obscurity flooding through the scene like a crashing wave of water, devouring all signs of warmth or heat. The cold would continue to not harm Bill, not suck life from him. If anything, he would find it familiar territory. Comforting even, in its own way. The dark not quite so dark, quite so difficult to see in, so obscuring either. 

In another instant he was behind Bill, “A gun? Interesting choice.” The whisper came, soft and dark and almost taunting right against Bill’s ear, the flashing of his curling ropes coiling above him abruptly tensing suddenly to plummet down to strike at Bills’ form in a violent rush for blood. But even so, somehow, it was restrained. Timed. Giving and leaving the mortal space to jump back, to fight, perhaps even to respond. He would see.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Typical cheating behavior! I have bad eyesight!” It wasn’t a complaint in the slightest, more of a compliment in his own twisted way. What a fucking snake. There’s not even time to register his position as he felt that smooth voice beside him, eliciting a pleasuring and shameless spark of adrenaline. Bill readjusted his grip on the axe in his right almost instantly, an effortless spin to have the head directed in the moment he chose to quickly swing back, assuming Ford to be in the same spot. Obviously this was a losing battle. He hadn’t came in expecting anything different, in fact, a great disappointment he wasn’t ready to face would come if he even managed a single _hit._

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford was not there in fact. Like the fluid shifting of shadows he swept back from the axe where it would meet open air, yet the curling ropes of his flesh lengthened impossibly, still striking down at Bill like spears, even as he himself dodged clean out of the way. “Sloppy.” He commented offhandedly, a hush in his voice. “Your form is poor, you aren’t striking with proper force, and losing far too much energy.” All that could be seen were those multicolored eyes; bright shapes of red, yellow, green and blue, all staring at him with slits from the darkness, enveloping every corner of white.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Forgive me,_ ” Bill managed, unable to fully get everything out as he attempted to keep on his feet, wary, already depleted of energy during those brisk five seconds. “for not trying to murder you elegantly while—“ Bill moved again, quickly, eyes trained above him as he aimed to at _least_ wade off the attack, his aim becoming more wild and trigger happy by the second. His eyesight was playing tricks already. “—trying to avoid getting impaled!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He laughed then, softly, aiming each strike as Bill leapt back and swung, crushing the ground beneath, cracking and impaling the marble in small explosions of debris exactly in time with Bill’s steps and only missing him by mere centimetres. “You’ll need to be better. Better than that. Better than **_this._ ** ” He flashed, moving to avoid, to vanish from sight as each bullet flew by. “Weren’t you going to become a _god,_ Bill? And what of it. This truly is subpar.” And another flash of shadows, the vines of flesh vanishing too in the single streak of movement as Bill fought. There Ford was, suddenly behind the other in a whisper of cold and chill, a grin painting his face, wide and eerie and prominent, teeth flashing. “ _Show me_ what you have in you, Cipher.” He demanded, harsh, fierce, a growl and hiss of a thing, a command that came so strong and certain, his main arm reaching back as if readying to plunge in and impale the human.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill wanted to actually bite back that gods weren’t created in a day. They went through trials and tribulations in order to obtain the power they sought, and a simple fight inside a dream bubble wouldn’t shape him so quickly. In the end, it would merely be a repeat of knowledge the demon already held. He had to be fucking with him. Having _fun_ watching Bill squirm, because he was to an embarrassing degree, unable to find a moment to swing, shoot, nor react as he kept moving back and back until Ford’s voice broke through. While it wasn’t necessarily fear that instilled within him, it was something cold, unnerving, a glitch in the system as he used those last remaining seconds to hastily turn on his heel, flicking the engulfed axe as hard as he could, watching it spiral in the direction Ford, eyes blown.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford could have dodged it. Easily. Even just on a simple whim. But he didn’t. His smirk tipped wider as it landed, crushing into his flesh, blood blossoming impressively dark from him as it wedged itself into his side at a jagged angle, spilling there; a red so dark it may as well be black. 

“Yes.” He said then softly, eyes glinting as they reached up in the entire obscurity of darkness, axe embedded in his body, too deep now to pull free. An impressive thing. He took in Bill there, a haunting figure, a slithering of constant movement, of shadows, all eyes meeting Bill’s blown, animal ones with a dark, inhuman expression. “I am going to make you a king, Bill Cipher.” His voice was nothing short of a rough whisper, a harsh, thready thing, a thing that seemed to teem with a dark, coarse truth. His smile remained throughout, biting and almost animalistic. “When we are through, you will have your power. I promise you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill... panicked. All at once. It’s not full blown, but being unexpectedly distraught at causing harm to _Ford,_ his demon, his _soulmate,_ hadn’t sat well. Making Ford.. bleed. He had to remind himself that this was dreamscape. A dream. A space not bound by reality, and that Ford was fine. His partner spoke clearly, unfazed, the promises ringing throughout his core as both guilt and a mind blowing high engulfed him all at once, overwhelming. 

Bill’s gun clattered to the floor, hand rushing to Ford’s side, no longer cautious of the tendrils, the self-preservation once again vanishing throughout it all. He looked up, gaze hardened, but something softer lying underneath as he provided a weakened smile at the alluring abnormality before him. He didn’t care to be swallowed whole. “I’ll hold your word to it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford grinned, still such a fierce and bracing thing, seeming unphased by the axe or the injury. However, what Bill did not seem to realize was that for him, this was far from just a dreamscape. Far from a mirage. He’d wanted to see. To _feel_ . To know the depths of his chosen human’s resolve. The depths of the _intention_ , the **_mirth_ **, the power and force that lay there. The truth at its most basic, without flattery and words and simple ideas that meant all of nothing in the grand scheme of things. And it had showed. 

No, it was not a dreamscape in the typical sense one would imagine. For Bill, certainly, yes. But for Stanford? This was his realm. His home. His reality, twisted and woven together with thought and physical and many other elements that may reach to impossibility. And only in this realm, such as Bill who resided and merged just as deep as himself into this almost sacred space, could he truly be injured. Still, the blood was something almost alive to his senses, the pain festering in a way that seemed unearthly and entirely animal. He felt alive. He felt _fierce_ in this feeling, in this desire, in this strange and taunting need, tendrils working their way around to Bill, no longer hitching back to strike, but gentle almost, welcoming even in the touch. As was his smile. “From this day forward, I expect you to bow to nothing, Cipher. No man. No item. Nothing in this cosmos. Do you understand me?” His voice had leveled back, nearer to its usual tone, but still with a hint of that same deeper, harsher nature.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Even you?” Bill’s eyes danced, prying, curiosity bleeding freely as his hands continued to touch at Ford’s side, perhaps roaming more than they should. Yet his touch remained, palm now flattened, the electrifying sensation of physical contact and collected promises directly making him overly sensitized. He could be killed, here and now, without an ounce regret. Without the wish for a second chance if it meant prolonging the moment for as long as he wished for. If it meant hearing a repeat of Ford promising him the status of a king, of a god, basking in the newfound path in life. His own. Woven to his liking.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He chuckled. “I would never respect you if you did.” He stated with absolute honesty, even a hint of kindness almost there to touch his otherwise dark voice, a twitch of something more of an ordinary smile against his face. And he too did not once draw from the touch, the tendrils simply weaving gently against Bill’s form, meeting against his fingers as the roamed, slithering, openly running things. The blood still spilled slowly from his side, but it felt entirely inconsequential as he smiled down to the human, almost as if entirely worthless of notation.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You’re funny guy, you know that?” Bill’s attention couldn’t exactly stray. In this point in time, the rest of the world ceased to exist. He didn’t know whether he wanted to further drive the axe into Ford’s body off the pure spike of violent energy or simply embrace him, as foreign as it would be for both of them. “You know,” he started with, voice breathy, heart still in his throat as it took time calming. He ignored as his hand became drenched in blood, unbothered. “One of these days I’m going to close that gap between us, and you’ll either kill me or leave me with an unsatisfied response. Worse, rejection. But either way, it’ll be worth it.” 

It was... more of a proposal to keep Ford by his side, instead of another out-of-place romantic gesture. Both could coincide.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh? And how do you propose you’d do that.” His tone was lighter, perhaps even gaining something in humor rather than outright challenging, still the woven strands dancing there at Bill’s touch, still the bleeding an impossible slow, oozing, freshly spilling thing. He was only somewhat following the other’s train of thought in that warning, if it could be called that. Human minds...so different from his. The way they worked, the manner they functioned...there were times even that it interested him greatly. And he smiled still regardless, a slight of a thing, even an amused thing. Perhaps not understanding the extent of what Bill was implying, what he was saying, but finding himself fine with it just the same.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“It’s something we call _slow burn._ ” Bill relaxed fully, more or less interested in dissecting the strands instead of holding them by this point. The nature of it was interesting, like they held separate minds, tending naturally Ford without his input. He wondered how that functioned, how it looked from the inside. “..Courting takes time,” he continued, generally amused by Ford’s reaction. If _he_ was impaled with a axe, well. Things would be much more hectic. “Requires breaking down those foreign barriers of yours, and when I finally reach that goal, I’ll kiss you as I crush this dimension underneath my heel. Romantic, isn’t it?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He again laughed out loud, and it sounded genuine, though still touched with a typical rough, deeper tone. “Bill. You are...a very unique human being.” Ford said then, again entirely authentic in the words, perhaps even meaning them in compliment. He had never quite met a mortal like Cipher, and he could not dispel how much it intrigued him. Yes, perhaps there had been many countless humans who had sought power, far too many in his time, and perhaps there were those with countless potential burning just at the surface. This however remained a mix of so many different simple concepts and ideas, chaotic insights, things that seemed to contradict and read clearly and childishly impossible. Bill was entirely human, that was certain, but in his own manner and methods. Interesting ones. Ones that he was certain he had never quite stumbled across before in his time. 

The tendrils were still rather gentle, calmed at the touch, and Ford moved his hands to one of Bill’s hands, holding it over the axe. “If you would please.” He asked then, eyes, even the mismatched colors of those above turning to the wooden hilt, hands ready against the other’s to help Bill in the efforts of pulling it out.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m flattered.” Very much so as he fixated on Ford’s face, the laughter, a sense of accomplishment spreading throughout his chest. He flexed his fingers around the axe, welcoming the help, touch, the texture of Ford’s.. skin, if he could call it that. “With pleasure.” 

He began to pull, hoping to make it quick and painless. It’s been lodged in there during their conversation, and Bill, already planning on conducting another interview, would thoroughly research Ford’s insane pain tolerance.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Something did seem to give slightly at the axe being ripped out. Ford tightening the tendrils thick around Bill’s hand and pulling hard and swift in time with the human. With a splattering of dark liquid that struck like dark oil across the room it finally came loose, and even as his smile didn’t particularly falter, there was a clear hitch of breath, eyes going darker as it pulled into the air. “Hm.” He shut his eyes beneath his glasses for a moment, before righting himself, a few unmangled tendrils now curling over the open wound and slithering away darker from the liquid, covering it from sight. A wave of his hand allowed for the reemergence of the sofa chairs and the fire to return to its beforehand cool, green flame. Ford collapsed gently into the chair, the blood gently staining and soaking the material. “I will have to retire soon to tend to myself.” He informed the other, again a more wolfish dark of a smile on his lips. “You swing hard, for a mortal, Cipher.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’ll spare you my sexual innuendos under these conditions.” Ford made it easy, but the moment itself held a cherishing milestone in the air. Bill put some space between them, flicking the strange liquid off his hands, though not in disgust. “Is it strange I felt far more connected as we tried stabbing each other in comparison to the questions?” He asked with a smile. It was rhetoric at best, but he wouldn’t mind Ford humoring it in the end. “Would you like me to leave? I know you demonic beings need your alone time! Boys will be boys.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’ve come to realize that I would not expect anything less of you.” Albeit from the tone, it sounded almost as if Ford agreed, a humored note even there to match the grin, a darkness akin to before lingering against his gaze. “Yes, I will need to begin teaching you properly. Many things, of course, however...fighting will be a regular occurrence for more reasons that you will come to learn. Once I’ve healed we will continue. I’m afraid I will need to ask you to be spending much more time in these halls, Bill, regardless of the hour. Which means our first lesson will be in proper use of meditation to reach these walls without the assistance of sleep.” He informed the other, tendrils seeming to scurry and slide, moving themselves primarily toward covering the open wound. “As for if you should leave...” He considered. “You are more than welcome to the tomes and research here at any time, naturally. These halls are now open as much to your touch as they are to mine. We are bound in that way. However, I myself will certainly have to retire soon. Such things as this require...” He paused, considering, “Certain...energies outside of this space. And a very specific concentration. What’s more, I...will most likely not be in my correct faculties.” He admitted. “And truthfully, there is every possibility you could be...harmed.” Devoured, destroyed, or...nothing at all, it simply depended on the rest of his deeper, darker natures that seemed to swim in the movements his body gave. He looked over, and seemed to think on something, a quirk of a smile there, “But before any of that, Bill, did you have anything else you wished to ask?” He offered, leaning forward to take his now reappeared teacup with ease, allowing the teapot above to pour in a fresh dose of hot liquid.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s untainted hand tucked itself into the pocket of a now wrinkled suit, absently clutching the fabric within the pouch as he thought. “Well,” he hummed, a balance of back-and-forth from toe to heel. A childish posture despite being the same man who punctured Ford with raging violence not even five minutes ago. Bill was a case, indeed. “As you know, I’m madly in love with you.” Another repeated half-truth. “For this reason, visiting you frequently won’t inconvenience me. That won’t be an issue. However, as tempting as it would be to stay and get mauled, I will have to pass on remaining in this space with you. No hard feelings, Fordsy.” 

The nickname slipped. At the same time, he made no effort in correcting himself. Perhaps he didn’t realize, too caught in the thrill. “Yes. Off topic, but is.. you know.” He made a few confusing gestures, words failing. “...Is the kid mad at me? Not that I... care or anything. I don’t care. At all. You guys didn’t gossip about me, did you?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford’s attention drifted a moment to his injury, however it was for just a moment of pressing down against it and even as he glanced up, if he minded the nickname, it didn’t seem to show in the slightest. “Hm.” Was all the comment he would get on the whole of the agreement from the other and he too seemed to consider him as Bill fretted there. “Yes. We did talk.” He confided easily, “...Nothing particularly unimagined, I suppose. Dipper wanted to confirm our arrangement. And of course, he asked me quite adamantly not to hurt you.” Was the simple response. “As I have not seen him since, I could not say how he is within this situation now.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s heart felt a little full, the most a maniac’s could feel after stabbing his soulmate a midst a fit of deranged ecstasy and show of commitment. Faintly, there’s a appreciative smile. “Oh, he’s probably mad at me. But,” Bill turned, not that there was an exit to face. The only one would be disturbing his own slumber. “Thanks for answering my questions. I didn’t nearly get through half, but that could be finished during another session.” Bill paused, then added, “Where we hold hands the entire time. Till next time.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford offered a slight smile in return, shaking his head slightly at the other’s continued antics. “Yes, Bill. Until next time. It may be a few days I’m afraid to say, however...you’ll know when I’m ready.” And with another wave of his hand, Bill would begin to slip from this space and state of consciousness entirely, sliding into a regular state of dreaming. Pulling away from the realm altogether, and into what would contain his typical dreams and rest as if passing through a washing of shifting water.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**


	6. Future Visions, Witches, and Hamburgers, oh my

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill's decidedly trying to ease Dipper's mind and smooth over some edges. The best way? Kidnap a teenager and roll into the forest to find a witch at an ungodly hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rex: Whoop super late but uh...whelp, think with all that's happening that's justified. Stay safe out there guys. 
> 
> Also want to apologize for my tank writing skills with Dipper in this chapter, I mean damn. I recall it being suuuuuper late RPing this and my brain was just fried and sandwiched so...well, heck, my bad.

  


There’s a shift now, one that had gotten the ball rolling. Bill didn’t stir for some time, which in itself was unusual as he comfortably pressed against his desk, content, dawn’s arrival bleeding through the curtains of his bedroom welcomingly. His spring to life abandoned the regular routine of black coffee scorching his throat, a hastily change of clothes, tacky, for once, as he gathered books and notebooks into a satchel. 

It was an ungodly hour of the morning, maybe around 6AM before there’s a few pebbles clattering at Dipper’s window. Not the best course of action given Mabel and Fiddleford were probably home, and Dipper is probably still grounded, but that in itself didn’t matter too much to him. Bill couldn’t stop smiling. His damn cheeks were on fire by now, but it’s yet to put a halt to anything.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper grunted in his sleep. 

Ah yes, sleep. One of those rare, elusive things the teenager often found absolutely _impossible_ to grasp. Seriously, an hour here. An hour there. If asked, he guessed it wasn’t so hard staying asleep most of the time. Now _getting_ to sleep, oh there in lay the curse of it. This past night had been no exception. If anything, sleep had eluded him almost entirely, fretting into the early hours of the morning to leave the teen pacing and ranting openly to himself in undertoned jibes and frantic words of, “That _idiot_ , what was he **thinking** \--” to “maybe if we looked at these books again,” to “there’s _gotta_ be some way _out of this,_ ” to grabbing at his hair and slumping his head against the wall in a fit of desperation before, in the midst of collapsing on his bed covered in notes and broken pens, chewing on his own shirt until he’d finally succumbed in a disheveled heap against his bed snoring lightly. 

Mabel had... _naturally_ , stayed over night again with her friends. Teenage girls. Always needing to...god, he didn’t know. Hang out, he guessed? Gossip. Date, or gossip about it. If he were really honest, a deep jealousy and some sense of betrayal would hit him at the thought, with her abandoning him entirely these past few years. Where after moving here...after...certain _incidents_ her projects, theater, friends, leadership roles and craft groups, and after school activities claimed her life entirely...almost deliberately. _Especially_ since moving here permanently. She was the social vibrant one between them, the _social butterfly,_ always out there, always talking to people and making friends, a bundle of bright lights and bubbly personality. Where as he...was...well, not. It left Dipper the seclusive mystery dork known throughout the town to occasional bust ghosts, leaving him to stew on it all in his own space.

No more Mystery Twins. No more fake mini golf. No more...well, almost anything these days actually. That co-dependence? More of a...singular dependence now. His cousin had told him that’s just a part of growing up. Dipper called it bullshit. But hell, he didn’t exactly push either. He told himself he was glad she was happy. Even if it meant he was left on the sidelines here. Or traversing the forest at all hours of the day and night just to see if the Lepracorns were a real thing or track down the Hidebehind. He lost himself in that side of his own life, this whole mystery side of things and heck, he still loved it, even if he'd found a new partner in the midst of it all.

He guessed it was nothing short of stupid luck speaking of that there had been someone else as crazy in this town who was into the same sorts of adventures as himself. Nothing short of some great big fantastic, _stupid_ luck. And boy, look where that had gotten him. 

He mumbled something incoherent in his sleep as the first pebble smacked at his window, grunting at it. It wasn’t until the second or third that he stirred to life, picking his head up from the generous amount of drool that had accumulated beneath him, hair a frazzled mess. “Wha….?” He glanced up blearily, still clearly half asleep,squinting out and trying to get his brain in working order, though it didn’t seem to want to come to. Blinking, he finally sat up, rubbing a hand at his forehead, staring stupidly. It wasn’t until another “chink” of rock on glass did he jump, staring over to the window. Still not entirely with it, he climbed to his feet and pulled open the window, peering down through a gentle wafting of mist to signal the early morning hour. 

His eyes narrowed immediately. And in a war between wavering sleeplessness and the anger he’d felt last night, he glanced around fervently, opening the window and cursing softly. 

_“Bill.”_ He finally hissed, trying to be quiet though keeping loud enough to be heard by the other which...didn’t exactly make it that effective now that he thought about it. Still, he tried to keep his voice down. “Man, what are you _doing_ here. I’m going to get in a lot of trouble.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Morning.” Bill saluted, all pearly whites exposed. He looked to have hit the jackpot, unable to stand still, an occasional bounce to his stance. The notebooks and tools inside the satchel had joined in the gravity, a rhythm soon to be found. “Trouble? Listen kid, soon you’ll realize these parental threats lose all foundation once you simply decide to disobey. Unless he’s threatening to press cigarette buds into your back, then you’re all good!” 

Bill extended his arms, crazy, welcoming, the exact representation of a cryptic appearing outside someone’s window around twilight zone hours. “Get dressed and come hop down here. I’ll catch you. We got some stuff to do.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The absolute and overwhelming urge to just snap the window shut and be done with the other came over him with a lot of force in that moment, but he paused at Bill’s final words, his scowl clear as Bill made very little effort at keeping his voice down. His hands, the damned traitorous things, didn’t seem to want to obey him either. He cursed again instead, shifting back into the room and scrambling to grab some new clothes, tossing the ones from yesterday aside haphazardly. Once he’s fought a new pair of jeans on, he snatched his signature hat and a bookbag. And _still_ mentally cursing the man, he slung it over his shoulder and made his way out of the attic, trying hard to sneak carefully down the stairs. A quick stop in the kitchen led to him writing a note and leaving it against the table. 

Whatever Bill said, he really didn’t want to give his uncle a panic attack. He was already feeling a wave of guilt at having done just that the other night when he hadn’t so much as called. Soon enough he was instead unlocking the front door and slipping outside, shutting it silently behind him and all but _glaring_ at Bill, eyes still furious in their hot anger. “What are you _doing_ here.” He again repeated, tone clipped and harsh.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Easier than expected. No complaint in the slightest as he witnessed a blue and white hat emerge from the door, noting that soured expression, but more importantly, how quickly Dipper readied himself to join along. If it were the time for it, he would schedule another celebration towards Dipper’s rebellion. They grow up so fast. 

“To hang out,” Bill answered simply. His hands went to his hips, raising an eyebrow at the tone. Not that he didn’t _know_ why Dipper was pissed at him, though there’s no real way to reverse anything. And Bill didn’t want to. “Me and Ford had a date last night that turned... rough, so he’ll be out for a few days. I’ve decided to amplify this process of research in the meantime with my _favorite little guy._ ” 

Calling Dipper “little” probably wasn’t for the best.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Seriously? Just that? Just _hang out?_ ” What was actually to be expected though? Could Dipper expect, what, an apology? Would that even _mean_ anything considering Bill’s situation? Could it? And his expression twisted further as Bill talked about _another date_ with Ford, as if to just put salt into the already insane and ridiculous and far too dangerous wound. “You are not serious right now. You’re _still_ meeting with him?” He growled, but god, again, what was he even supposed to expect in this situation. He paused to pinch at his nose, growling out a headache that threatened to come on. “You know what? No. I’ve got to get to the library. I have to see if there’s anything we can _do_ about all of this.” He growled again, gesturing at Bill as if to imply the obvious. "There _has_ to be something out there about this kind of thing."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s face faltered, if only slightly at Dipper’s persistence. He adjusted the strap to his bag, the disheveled mess of blonde gently swaying at the morning’s breeze. “Pine Tree, you can't fix it.” And certainly Gravity Falls’ library didn’t contain the answer, unless some secret vault was behind the walls with a separate entity entirely. His hands went to his hips, observing the teen with some.. sympathy, he guessed. Though he’s not sure what to feel sympathetic for. “I don’t get why you’re so angry. It’s not going to impact you or your family. I appreciate the concern, but don’t you think this is overkill?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Overkill!_ Bill, he’s a **_demon._ ** A _real_ one. You haven’t read some of the stuff this book talks about with him! From what I can tell, anyone and everyone who makes a deal like this might get _some_ benefit out of it on the surface, but each one of them eventually goes _insane!_ Like, you know, battering your head against the wall _insane?_ And those people are just the lucky ones.” He could _not_ believe what he was hearing. The fact that Bill could be so reckless twisted his anger deeper. “It’s not some...some cheat to all the world’s knowledge. It’s fucking _dangerous._ If anything my reaction is _underkill._ How would you have liked it if _I_ was the one making the deal? Huh!?” He demanded, crossing his arms in a stubborn ferocity. While he’d started out in a harsh, low yell of a whisper, it had grown and by the end he’d actually forgotten to mask his voice entirely, leaving it furious and laced deeply with anxiety and a miracle his uncle hadn’t been woken up by it.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh please. A little insanity never hurt anyone. What’s the worst he’s ever done, huh?” As in, _tell me, please, so I can fall further into the pit of morbid fascination of his prowess._ Bill eyed Dipper. The type that could come close to a dad surveying his son with scrutiny. “It’s different if it was you. Me and you are _different._ Very different. So much that the situations couldn’t possibly compare.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper growled, reaching into his bookbag and snatched out the heavy tomb, quickly laying it out on the porch where they stood and pulling open the pages. “God Bill, it all talks about warnings of how it will mark your...your _soul_ , change it. Invade your mind. How we as humans pay this whole ternal price for what he offers. About all the people who were killed for...for _wasting_ their “gifts,” for just insulting him, for not working to some kind of expectation... I mean, I still have a lot to decipher but...every single one of these people it talks about has gone mad or met some terrible death. Kings, rulers, scientists, artists...” His mind was running, and he poured over the page, scowling deeply at its contents, as if it were in fact at fault for all of this. But from everything he’d gathered, the impact of this was actually forever. It even warned of that, and Ford’s directness in sharing this information with those he made deals with. He gave another curse, before his dark eyes shifted up to the other, getting back to his feet and shutting the book to his chest. “Come on, don't give me that.” His tone changed to exasperation, obviously also irate. “And seriously, why’s that, huh? How’s it better _you_ end up being the one getting...getting tied up in all of this? What if I tried to make a deal with him too?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill listened carefully. None of these listings impacting him, never once striking any fear or shame into his mind. He allowed Dipper to continue on without interruption. His desires ran too deep, both for his goals and Ford, greed already deeply embedded into his core. He took a step closer, placing a gentle hand on Dipper’s shoulder, leveling, squeezing it firmly. “Cause you have a life. You have school, friends, your family, probably a good goddamn career ahead from how brainsy you are. Throwing that away would be stupid, because you already have what you need in order to have a fulfilling life.” It was.. as best as he could explain, attempting to smoothen out the grogginess in his voice, softening. He shouldn’t have skipped out on a hot brew of caffeine. Too late now. “You’re not and you won’t.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It was actually amazing how quickly Dipper’s features deflated at the words. He looked torn, like he wanted to fight, but...too that he knew what Bill was saying was absolutely true. Too that he _heard_ Bill, really heard him right then. “But, what about _you_.” 

He tried again desperately, actually, ashamedly, sounding quite a bit younger than he’d like to admit, if just for a moment. For once since the whole thing began a kind of stirring, lost look in his gaze as he held it against Bill that went just a bit deeper than the clear irate frustration. He would never say it in so many words, what Bill really meant to him, or how far he’d actually go to keep him safe himself. Or maybe even, and it was ridiculous, ludicrous, absolute absurdity, what kind of...mentor figure he held some of the time. Brother, friend, uncle, who could say which of these rang the most true? Most of the time it just felt like some kind of wild, weird, impossible mix of all three.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’ll be _fine._ I promise. Don’t worry too much.” It’s all he could offer in the moment. Images of Ford’s dark figure looming over him blossoming, tendrils striking down, cracking the floor with each strike. He smiled, patting Dipper fondly on the head. “Besides. He told you he wouldn’t hurt me, didn’t he? Ford’s a strange one, but I know what I’m doing here. I trust him to hold that little promise to you. Now,” he moved back, more or less wanting to change the subject. There’s uncomfortable territory he felt to be nearing, like he would spill something unneeded into the conversation that couldn’t be forgotten. “I need your A-game face. Give me your A-game.”(edited)

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Bill_ , he might not even have a concept of what “hurt” means. I don’t...know if that’s even something he sees like we do. I don’t even know if he meant to drive all those other people insane either, and honestly I doubt he cares. His whole “code” or “world view” or whatever is _entirely_ different from anything we can possibly imagine more than likely.” But the fight was pretty much...well, not lost, but. Put on hold if nothing else here. Bill had kind of pulled all the cards. It left him with a burning need to continue pouring over every inch of his book and, if possible, maybe “borrow” Bill’s book for a time and poor over every inch of that too. Get every scrap of information and work out a way to break this deal. Still, that seemed as if at this point it’d be something he’d be doing solo and when his friend wasn’t bugging him out to do...whatever it is they were doing. He guessed he really didn’t need sleep too much anyways, right? God. 

He sighed, deflating a bit again from the rise of emotion, gaze glaring off to the side but relenting just a little. “Look, I’m not going to say I’m okay with this… _or_ that I’m not going to try and get an idea of what exactly we have to do to get you _out of_ this mess, but…” He took a hand to his hat, adjusting it irritably, habitually in frustration, “I guess what I’m trying to say is...I also don't really see what else I can say about it. Or that...you know, I want to...stop hanging out or...whatever.” And he eyed the other, that same unamused look on his face as Bill tried to rally some “A game” from him. At most he kinda just gave the other a look, but sighed, relenting despite himself. Damn crazy egomaniac, eccentric, rich jackasses. “Alright, alright. I’m...in my A game.” He gave, a bit of a huff on his voice.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“He doesn’t care,” Bill confirmed. And that, crazily so, was the most attractive point of Ford. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t understand. He’s an entirely foreign being that held so much power, but can barely comprehend the concept of human relationships. It was.. amazing, really. Being so intelligent yet out of touch with simplistic everyday human activities and emotions. In the end, there’s no true comfort Bill could give towards the situation. It was a done deal, permanent. “Of course you still want to hang out. We’re a team, you and me.” 

And when the time came, Bill would spare him. For now, he turned on his heel, facing the wood line of vast lush with a surge of confidence. “Tell you what,” he began, arm moving to snake around Dipper’s shoulder. “There’s a witch somewhere deep behind the church house in town. You know, the one right by the police department? It’s a good twenty minute walk, just heading straight, clear path.” Already sounds like a bad idea. “She tells fortunes for the low, low price of goat sacrifices. Whaddya say? We can figure out how I’ll die!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Ugh.” He groaned, throwing a hand over his face once again. “I--geez, you just never give up, do you.” He grumbled, placing the book back in his bookbag, glaring up at the other as they walked, but despite himself, there was something of...what, confidence maybe? Placed between them at the team comment. The new Mystery Duo. He snorted, giving the other a light shove without a lot of force behind it. “I still can’t believe you’re… _infatuated_ with an otherworldly demon. God at this point I wouldn’t even be shocked if you _did_ have kids with him.” Anything could happen, right? The moon could turn into a cake, the grass could start sprouting wings, the world as he knew it was a weird place with crazy family figures making deals with demons and who knew what else. He rolled his eyes, a slightly reluctant, tenser grin coming to life there on his face. 

“Come on. Look, we can go explore this witch thing but _no more_ blood sacrifices. We talked about this, Bill.” He pointed out, jabbing a finger at the other as they walked off.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“He’s handsome,” Bill defended, lightheartedly. “Have you seen that jawline? Those _legs_ ? Those eyes and mouth? The aura that radiates _’I could kill you’_ ? What a hunk!” A lost cause, is what Bill was. He directed Dipper over to his car, mostly so the trip into town wouldn’t look even more suspicious than it already was when they were regularly spotted together. Bringing a teenager in the forest behind a church was.. well. Another unintentional “predator point” tacked onto the board. Bill almost pouted. Almost. “Those sacrifices are an essential part of my meetings, Pine Tree!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You…” He said decisively, crawling into the car and pointing another accusing finger, “Are nuts. That’s nuts. That’s crazy.” He said, listing it off as if it were simply something that needed to be said here. And as he grabbed for his seat belt he gave Bill a pointed look. “ _No._ No sacrifices, Bill! Seriously.” He glanced off for a second, "Maybe she'll...I don't know, take something else that doesn't involve death for her payment."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill slipped into driver’s side, pushing keys in the ignition and bringing the engine to life, soon backing out the driveway with practiced ease. “Yeah? I think you’re crazy for finding a ginger attractive. Blondes are in! Give Northwest a try if you’re looking for some real quality.” He snorted. “Okay, sure. If it makes you happy.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He shot the other a glare, “Will you-- _stop_ talking about my love life? What are you some kind of match maker or something now?” Again, the similarities between Bill and Mabel seemed a bit too obvious at times, well, maybe not _quite_ as crazy, but still comparable. It kind of made him wonder if this sort of personality just was destined to be at his side. “Right, good. And yes, it does actually, murdering things is generally….not on my list of things to be doing.” Not that he wasn’t a total hypocrite on some levels, after all he had murdered in self defense. And there _was_ that one time that Mabel and Bill had made fun of his...well, lack of manliness enough for him to venture into the forest for a week nearly ending with him slaying the multibear (who was actually now pretty much one of his only other friends too at this point. He...really needed to get out more.)

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m just trying to help you out! When I was your age-“ god, another story of the past. What makes it worse is the slower drive into town, simply him cruising with the windows halfway down, cooled breezes squeezing inside the vehicle. “I had about one new girlfriend every month. Dated a cheerleader, football player, drug dealer, a girl who spoke to trees, one chick who had a sixth sense. I’m offering you my level of expertise!” And each and every one of those relationships ended horribly. Something he didn’t mention, but then again, everything pretty much spoke for itself. He passed Dipper a look, almost a side eye. “Murdering is useful in some moments. Sometimes a little murder is needed, kid. New lesson. What number are we on now for my teachings? Fifty? More?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“That's not going to be how it is with the demon, right? Like a month later you want a new one?” He asked a bit on a sardonic tone, sarcasm clear there. “You’re not really filling me with confidence here.” Yeah, taking advice about most things from Bill, but especially dating, struck Dipper as a _very bad idea_. “Listen, I’m happy! It’s fine. I don’t...need anyone to date. Besides, I’ve got, you know, my own research and journals and mysteries to solve. I wouldn’t have time for any of that anyways.” Unless well it was Wendy. Who was also solving those mysteries. And helping with his journals. And maybe just holding his hand. “Ugh, ten hundred, at least.” He groaned and then glared lightly in return. “Murdering is not--look, ideally, we’d never have to do any of that. Ever. To anyone.” There was a great bout of hypocrisy somewhere in it all, and somewhere in the morals he usually felt a strong hold on were plenty of...questionable areas. Grey spaces. Things that maybe he dismissed or didn’t look into but were definitely there. A part of him was also almost fairly certain that these “questionable moralities” were probably coping mechanisms. Right? Probably. That sounded right at least.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“That’s the most _virgin_ answer I’ve ever heard in my life.” Bill muttered “yeesh” underneath his breath, eyeing the window as he passed a multitude of homes, shops, and diners, most of the streets vacant for now. When he came upon the church, he simply rolled over the sidewalk(illegal), knocked a religious sign over, ruined the grass in the front lawn, and drove to the far back of the building where nothing but trees towered over, a mountain to be seen in the distance. “Sorry to break those hopes and dreams, but we’re definitely going to be doing some murder.” Bill stopped, then added sheepishly. “In self defense.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“What, man, no it’s not. It’s true, I’m...you know, a busy guy. Hunting ghosts. Tracking down creatures. Uncovering gold truth telling teeth that...sort of have no purpose unless you don’t have teeth. This stuff takes a lot of time!” He defended himself. Not even to mention his home life or whatever the hell Bill dragged him off to. 

At the next part he shot Bill a quick, sharp and suspicious look. “What? No we’re not.” He defended and made to unbuckle his seat belt. Definitely not. Bill was joking, right? He narrowed that suspicious look at him, going a bit deeper as he tried to read the other man all while climbing out of the car. “Also I think like, about ten things you just did there were illegal.” He pointed out bluntly, gesturing to the parking job.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Laws are restricting to my creative process.” Bill took the keys out, shoving them into his pocket carelessly. Outside smelled great, aside from the strange odor wafting from the home of Christ right behind them. That’s a plundering for another, much less busy day. “Listen carefully here— witches are _devious_ bitches, kid. Devious. They’ll pose as your lover, deceased loved ones, anything to lure you in by your lonesome. Then they manipulate those surroundings and chop off your excess fat for potions, using your bones for dusts or decorations.” 

Bill neared the forest, squinting his eyes. “It’ll be a decent walk from here. So for precautionary reasons, once we spot odd carvings or wooden symbols dangling from branches, I’ve created a reliable buddy system. We’ll hold hands.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Yeah, they'll restrict you into a jail cell." He muttered before giving the other a level and odd look, but it held some sense of doubt there. “Uh...really? Is that...actually true?” His tone warred a bit with uncertainty and doubt, trying to work out if Bill was just exaggerating again or if this was actually the honest truth of the matter. The only real experiences he had with witches was the handwitch which had...definitely left him with some new nightmares the following night. “We’ll….hold hands.” He repeated flatly, eyeing the other a bit cautiously. “That’s a...pretty foolproof plan there, Bill.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yes. Now don’t separate too far from me. She knows me, but she’s also bipolar! If I wasn’t hitched then.. _maybe._ ” One thought for another day. Bill was the first to step foot inside. The forest was about as regular as anywhere else in Gravity Falls, but of course would soon change if they managed to get deeper. For now, rather relaxing, some birds chirping and frogs croaking from a nearby stream of water. “It is. Got any better ideas?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He rolled his eyes at the comment, but went ahead and clasped Bill’s hand anyways. Definitely better safe than sorry. And even if this whole...dumb demon deal had put a blow in his confidence in the other, and rather a certain _fear_ there for his safety, when it came to this kind of thing he generally trusted Bill. When it mattered, he did anyway. 

“Right, wouldn’t want to disappoint your demonic wifehusband.” He said with a touch of sarcasm, glancing around the woods as they went. “Well...no. But I mean, not sure if a gremgoblin’s going to care too much about the buddy system if we stumble on one, let alone a crazy witch.” He frowned. “You said you know her, right? Does this mean she’s the real thing? Like, can she _actually_ tell our futures?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“My _handsome_ wifehusband. Love of my life. The literal darkness to my light.” Bill laughed quietly, using a freehand to rub at his eye. “Yeah, sorta. Stumbled through here two months ago while drunk and managed to escape death. I visit from time to time, but, as all magical things, shes got that wild nature to steal babies and kill people. She’s alright. Makes nice tea.” Got off track there a little. “Yeah. Gotta make a trade with her first. Only once, then that’s it for a while.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper resisted a groan, instead going for an eye roll and a lift of his hands as if begging some invisible deity’s help. “You. Are the worst.” He said decidedly as they continued out against the brush, shaking his head. 

“That...doesn’t surprise me.” He said frankly. “But...damn, seriously? Man, that’s...kind of terrifying. What kind of things does she even trade for?” Even in the morbidity of the idea of a witch that stole babies and sacrificed people, he had an itching to reach into his bookbag and pull out his notebook.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The forest itself became denser, picking up some fog the further in. Though, so far, there’s no immediate signs of strange symbols hanging anywhere, only wildlife that avoided them both. “Since I’m not an entirely evil sack of shit, she’ll trade for potions and specific medicines if I’ll be her lackey for a few hours,” Bill explained. “Things like summonings, fortune tellings, curses, and all the rest require.. some darker things. Teeth. Blood. Severed goat heads.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper nodded, taking this information in. His eyes were sharp as they plowed deeper into the forest, trying to make out any jostle or sign of dangerous life, keeping a hold of Bill’s hand as they walked. He went over all of this with a level of deep fascination, still itching to get his notebook and jot some of this down. He’d have to remember it for later. “Right. Man, that sounds...gruesome.” He winced slightly, “But glad she at least has...some alternatives to that. What are we doing going there exactly? You’re really looking to get your fortune told?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“If it meant calming that very large head of yours, yeah. Gonna get this over with so you can stop being so demonphobic about our relationship.” Bill was already scanning the area. The woman was tricky, lack of compassion and generally found pleasure in causing suffering to unsuspecting victims. Dipper was young too, the extra caution already coming into play. 

Even more so as there’s... what, soft singing in the distance? A lovely angelic tune, echoing, bouncing off the trees gracefully as fog grew thicker in return. Though Bill could make out a small symbol engraved into the bark of a tree, so small that it’s barely even noticeable.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper felt a pang of emotion at that. He actually, if he were honest with himself, felt something kind of warm and sudden there at Bill’s admission. Saying they were there for _his_ peace of mind, doing all of this. It was dumb and weird and kinda messed up on a lot of levels, but it was...a very real and obvious way that showed him Bill cared. And that got to him a bit. 

His eyes turned though, body tensing then at the sudden angelic tune that drifted through the fog, strong enough that he couldn’t really see through it. “Man...we could really use that eternal light you won in the Smog of Delverine right about now.” He muttered, squinting out towards the sound and grimacing slightly. Yeah, that definitely felt like that weird monster from the game that lured victims in. “Are you getting any...really creepy vibes from that song or is it just me…?” He asked weakly.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s eyes narrowed. Almost instinctively, he took his hand from Dipper’s, instead moving to cover both of the teen’s ears with his hands. Right on time, as a silhouetted figure of a woman appeared through the cloudy screen, dancing, moving from foot to foot, a twirl and unnerving laughter ringing through the forest eerily. When a head peeped through it’s... young. Too young to be classified as a witch, clear skin, bright round amber eyes and black curls that fell over her shoulders. Youth. The only thing Bill imagined was that she managed to catch some poor sucker recently. Or worse, a child. 

“ _Cipher,_ ” she crooned. Her voice sounds like it’s everywhere at once, surrounding them, like the forest was no longer a place of nature, but her personal domain to be molded to her liking. She had yet to fully step out, craning her head in curiosity at the newer addition. “Is this.. for me?” 

“You touch him and I’ll fucking murder you.” Bill snapped, not an ounce of hesitance present. The sudden smell of lavender was overwhelming. He scrunched his nose. “Quit that goddamn singing. We’re not interested in being woo’d, thanks!” 

The woman seemed unfazed, however, only pouting as a manicured hand pressed against her bare chest. “I don’t remember you _ever_ being this cruel.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper’s gaze shifted nervously around them and he even started a bit as Bill slipped from his fingers and clamped his hands over his ears, shooting the other a nervous glance. And then, all at once...a woman appeared. Well, I guess if you could classify it as a woman. She was...wow, well, something. Dipper couldn’t help but stare. And stare. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something… _very appealing_ about her. In ways he couldn’t even put his finger on and in ways which, in his usual nervous, sweaty and awkward state, just didn’t hit him. Dipper could sort of appreciate the beauty of girls, generally speaking, but he’d never really… _seen_ them. Or felt them like this. This...wasn’t the witch right?

_Witch, what witch…?_

The thought came a bit dumbly over him and he felt kind of stupefied, weirdly detached for a moment, kind of lost in her image as she shimmied on over. He felt half tempted to remove Bill’s hands, maybe get a better idea of what was going on, (or maybe to just _talk_ to her and hear her better) but the tension in his friend, the absolute kind of fierce caution he could feel (if...not kind of hear?) was enough to make him second guess the urge. 

“Uuuuh, what’s happening...?” He tried instead a bit uneasily, still having a lot of trouble keeping his eyes off the woman.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill wasn’t fooled. Maybe months ago around their first introduction, getting a glimpse of that beauty for only a second before being reeled in. It wasn’t her natural appearance. He hadn’t seen it yet, of course, but he’s witnessed more aged versions frolicking in this area in search of a next fix. “Are you done?” 

“Depends.” 

“We’re here for an exchange,” he tried reasoning, watching the woman tap her chin in thought. She stepped out fully, observing both humans closely. Bill, only for the sole purpose of moving in front of Dipper protectively, finally removed his hands, instead reaching for something in his satchel. The next few events are him tossing out a ziplock bag, some.. deer teeth clustered inside of it. Dried blood clung to the plastic, overall a gross sight. 

She barely even batted an eye. “I have no need for this. What do you wish for?” 

“A look into my future.” 

“Ah, yes, that.” The witch moved, though not to close the distance. She merely raised a hand, the fog suddenly clearing to expose a decent sized lake, a raggedy shack with overgrown vines seated across from it. An end to play act, more like. “I need more, I’m afraid. This just won’t do.” 

Bill inhaled sharply. “I’m not _allowed_ to sacrifice goats right now.” 

At that, she blinked, somewhat caught off guard. A strange look for a witch to wear. Bill can’t say he’s ever gotten this reaction from her before. “You’re not.. allowed?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper shook himself mentally as Bill released his ears and stepped a bit in front of him, glancing warily over the other to get a better look at the woman. Damn it. Okay, so this was _definitely_ the witch. He’d been expecting something close to the handwitch honestly, and took a moment to mentally curse himself even as he continued to be drawn to her like nothing else. 

_Damn it Dipper, come on._ He thought fiercely and forced, tearing his gaze away just as Bill tossed what looked like...god, were those _teeth_ he'd just thrown? And still somewhat coated in blood. He blanched, glancing uneasily to his friend, but didn’t comment. 

At least not until the witch’s question was directed at them. He shot Bill a bit of a look. 

“Uh, yeah, we’re...trying to avoid animal sacrifices right now.” He nudged the other in the side, but...hell. At least Bill was listening to him about something. Maybe not the important selling your soul to the devil kind of things, but...man, could this be considered an improvement? He kind of had very little doubts that could he have, given the situation, Bill would be more than willing to take the step of animal sacrifice for these kinds of things. And as much as he complained and protested, oddly it...actually didn’t phase him as much as he felt like it should have.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The witch remained to be perplexed. For an uncomfortable second she had not responded, hair unnaturally flowing despite the lack of wind. Bill was seething silently to himself. 

“ _No animal sacrifices,_ ” he bit out, and, god, did it sound like he was in pain, like some great hobby was ripped right from his palms. “Alternatives.. would be appreciated, Freya.” 

“Alternatives,” the woman echoed. “And what alternatives could that possibly be? You know certain services require specific requirements to be met.” 

Bill groaned, dragging a hand down his face. This was more difficult than he expected. This whole.. having morals towards animals was already presenting itself as a barricade in the discussion. Dipper was a menace. In a wholesome way. “How about herbs? Need that? Flowers? Mushrooms? Those weird plants that scream when you make too much noise?” 

“No thank you, Cipher.” She eyed Dipper momentarily, then looked between them both before sighing. “Would you like to use your.. what is it, again? Coop?” 

“Coupon,” Bill corrected. “It’s called a coupon.”

“Yes, well. Would you like to use it over.. this? I’d like to remind you how foolish it would be, all for a vague glimpse.” 

Foolish indeed, but if it got the kid to settle down, then so be it. Bill nodded, reluctantly so. “Yee...p.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper looked between the two as they spoke, for the most part remaining silent. Coupon? What? What did that even mean? He felt apprehensive, like a third wheel that had no real place in the conversation...or maybe more like a fly on the wall than anything. All the while shooting Bill an uneasy look even as he made out how much the other seemed to be struggling with this. And he didn’t miss the words from the witch either. A glimpse? Wasting this… “coupon”? He got the very distinct impression he was only hearing half of the conversation but that one way or another it felt like Bill was giving up something pretty significant for this and just to avoid animal sacrifices...really, all because he’d insisted on it. It was...actually kind of touching in a weirdly somewhat morbid way, if he were totally honest. 

“Uh, yeah, that…” He trailed off. “Bill, what’s a coupon, exactly...?” He asked a bit softly before casting a look back out towards the witch. “Can’t we use something else?” He spoke up then, more to her, though glancing back to Bill. “Bill, isn’t there anything...you know, your, uh, “wife” taught you that could be a good exchange?” Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Bill making some kind of big unnecessary sacrifice just for him.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill avoided eye contact with Dipper for now. One part wanted to glare, to send a beam right through his large forehead over the sacrifice that _mattered._ His freebie. “It’s just.. a free pass, kid. Exactly one. Forever. _Gone._ Never to be replaced! Removed from existence!” 

Guessing from the witch’s face, she wasn’t exactly amused. Her eyebrows dipped, mouth twisting into a small frown. Even still, she held beauty effortlessly. “There is nothing. The coop is either used or you will present animals of my choosing.” 

Bill would sulk later. Probably. Most definitely. This was a major loss. “We haven’t begun lessons yet!” He cried dramatically, prying an eye roll from the woman. At best, she seemed relatively accustomed to the outburst from how casually she stood. “And he’s not gonna be around for days! Days!! My goddamn.. coupon.” 

“If you’re planning on using it,” Freya continued, ignoring the groans of ‘agony,’ Bill liked to call them. “Then gather around and give me both your hands. You’re wasting my precious time, I’m afraid.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper might be naive and oblivious sometimes, but he wasn’t entirely stupid, clearly this… “coupon” and its value mattered. And Bill was...what, throwing it away to give him ease of mind? That kind of hit him somewhere. Though, actually...now that he thought about it, the idea behind it was important. If this witch _could_ actually give them insight into what Bill’s future looked like, if he’d be safe, if he’d actually make it out of this in one piece...wasn’t that worth it? 

He took a steadying breath, “Okay. Well, then...” Maybe he’d...help Bill get another “coupon” or whatever later on, if he could. Or, he didn’t know, take him out for somewhere to eat that wasn’t imported directly from Germany. They’d have to wait and see what looked realistic between those two things. “You sure you’re...okay with this?” He asked the other either way rather hastily.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

No, he _wasn’t_ okay with this. He never would be, but Bill never bothered voicing his true opinion as he forced an approving smile at Dipper’s expense. This would blow over. Hell, wasn’t he supposed to be a god underneath Ford’s care? Fooling around with a witch should be beneath him. 

“Yeah. Let’s..” he grabbed Dipper’s hand, still wary, eyeing the witch up and down to check for any cracks in the surface. Thankfully, she was just impatient and ready to get it done with instead of manipulating Dipper. They caught her at the most decent of times. Probably won’t go this way again. 

Freya held out her hands, waiting. “Specifics,” she reminded. “What would you like to know? The outcome of a decision? Your death? Love life? As to reiterate, these displays will be vague. The context, in most cases, cannot be given.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

When Bill smiled in his direction, he kind of nodded in response. He guessed it was now or never, right? This would show them both what the future held, hopefully. Even if just a glimpse, a little insight. Something to tell them that Bill wouldn’t end up dead _or worse._ His eyes looked back to the witch warily, taking Bill’s hand in his as well. “Well...I guess that would be Bill’s future. Specifically, his future related with the knowledge Demon, Stanford.” He glanced over at the other. “Right?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“...Right.” Bill felt unsure for the slightest second, still cautious, but something else beginning to resurface as he finally gave Freya his hand, the other clenching Dipper’s in search for reassurance. She traced a sigil into his palm with practiced ease, a crack of lambent lights trailing the motion before fizzling entirely.

“Tell your..” Freya searched for the right word, flashing a faux smile at the unfamiliar face. If it weren’t for the current distraught moment, Bill would have snapped at her. “..friend.. if he would like to participate in this.. display of futures, to give me his hand as well. I don’t bite.” 

“You’re not funny.” Bill huffed. “Kid, if you want to, you can. Or you can sit back and let me hold all the secrets and lie to you.” He was joking, sorta.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_Whelp, now or never, Dipper, now or never._

He gave the other a bit of a grin, “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you.” He was trying for the usual banter the two might sort of have some of the times. Heck, if nothing else being back in the world of the paranormal and dangerous made things between them seem...well, sort of back to the usual. If it weren’t for how tense and guarded Bill was. He took a breath all the same, reaching out his other hand to grab at the witch’s, holding Bill’s tightly. He held it too for reassurance, and smiled to Bill. “Here goes nothing, right?” He asked with a weak, encouraging grin.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill grumbled, despite the corner of his mouth tugging upward. The witch held Dipper’s hand without much added, murmuring a few foreign sayings as she repeated the same process. “Close your eyes,” she instructed carefully. “Try not to overwhelm yourself. Relax. If you are on the verge of panicking, quickly open your eyes and I will help you. These tellings are not always set in stone. Remember that before causing a commotion to my forest.”

Bill exhaled, figuring she was speaking to Dipper instead of himself. There’s nothing, at least to his knowledge, that would make him flip his shit to that degree(save for his contract with Ford). 

Finally, his eyes slipped shut. 

A piercing coldness would promptly surge through both humans, running through their veins, stinging, but simultaneously not as frantic whispers overlapped wildly within a span of a second. There’s an endless darkness at first, a simple disconnect from the body, aimless, alone, though a light held at the end of the tunnel as consciousness would reemerge to scenes with blurred edges. It was.. somewhere. Familiar to Bill, but not so much as Dipper as both the older man and demon remained the focus of the picture. They were moving. Quick. Further adjustment would allow a better view of it all, Bill swinging.. a sword? Not even close to a traditional one, if close to something entirely not from this realm as he repeatedly aimed to puncture Ford, yelling.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper felt an urge to make a kind of quip asking about “ _her forest_ ” but held his tongue. Probably not a good idea to irritate the witch.

Yeah...probably not.

He gave her an uneasy nod instead and one reassuring, bracing final look towards Bill before, readying himself and keeping Bill’s hand in particular tight, the teen shut his eyes. 

In the snap of darkness things...abruptly shifted. Changing all around him. At first the cold took him by surprise and he pulled in a sharp breath against it but didn’t waver or let go of either hand as it flooded through his mind. He felt tense, on edge, wary, but also...weirdly, bizarrely _excited_. In a way only these crazy, supernatural things could do to him, filling him with a strange shot of coursing adrenaline. And then all at once, the images came as if from across a chasm, blurring into life. 

He made out the image of Bill, or what he was sure was Bill, holding a...hold on, was that a _sword?_ The image sharpened somewhat, shadows bringing the demon’s face across from him more starkly into view in a location, something of a...library that he did not recognize in the slightest. 

“Good, _excellent,_ Bill. Better.” Ford’s voice rang clear and cold, but held a certain note of approval to it. “Remember. Instinct. Power. Reflex. In this space, it is your _mind_ , your weakness that is the enemy. You must move with your entire body, with your whole will.” Ford swept back, dodging the other with apparent ease, seeming to move with such an alien fluidity it made Dipper’s head spin. “Good, _attack_ , never defend, remember this. The second you fall only to defense, you lose. Now _attack,_ Cipher.” A great kind of fierceness, a fire, a harsh challenging smile came from Ford at the words before great vines of shifting vines of his body sprung from the demon's form, crashing out toward his friend and mentor, toward Bill’s form. Dipper tried to hold on, to catch every sporadic detail, but the edges of it all still seemed a little bit blurry, a little bit hectic and difficult for him to make out, but it was clear the demon was training Bill in some intense way.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

As well as it simply fading in the spur of the moment, ending with Bill bracing for impact as his laughter swallowed the scene whole, an instant transition, almost nauseatingly disorientating as the once swinging figure had settled peacefully onto the couch of a much more familiar space. Books and papers were scattered amongst a barely lit den, casting shadows around the expensive decor clinging to the walls. Bill held a frustrated smile as he redid an equation for the umpteenth time, it appeared, eraser markings all across the wrinkled paper. “I don’t get it,” he said, a string of exhaustion in his voice. “The hell am I doing? I can’t even.. this portal is going to take ten fucking years at this rate.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Patience, Bill.” Ford chastised, flicking through the pages of a book of his own rather lazily with the black tendrils that slid from his form, so in contrast to that hungry, almost bloodthirsty being Dipper had viewed just seconds before. Calm. Collected now. “These things take time. If need be, perhaps we can revisit the idea of my teaching you certain specifics as you sleep. Though...we must be careful, as I’m sure you know.” Still, the demon swept over, snapping his book shut to peer over the other’s work. “Hm. Your calculations _here_ are wrong. I may suggest looking at them again.” With the reprimanding words the colors faded out again, shifting rapidly, falling in a tumble of shadows and sparing darks before simply smoothing out into something new. 

He caught a brief sight of Bill again. There were books everywhere again, very similar to the last scene, and Ford was off to the side, speaking in a cold, clear voice as if carrying on a continued conversation Dipper himself had accidentally tumbled into the center of. “Ah, well. Human. She was human, my mother, actually. Time does not have the same meaning in many realms as it does here, William. And for...well, a brief lapse of time my brother and I were raised on this very world in fact. Later, our father decided to take us away from this plain of course. I suppose we must have been, in your terms...thirteen?” He paused curiously, wisps of dark and shadow spreading out around him before idly pulling out a book from a shelf as if to distract himself. “You must understand, by the time I came to return to this realm, it was trillions of years before this galaxy had even coalesced. Though frankly, I suppose it’s possible our mother may still yet be alive. I have never bothered to check.” He cast a look back towards Bill, shifting his whole body all at once, glasses obscuring his more human eyes as the others bore, glowing, down through the dark flickers of firelight at Bill’s form.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I bet she was great,” came the lighthearted response, filled with both naivety and that same admiration that’s regularly expressed throughout their common visits. From the perspective, Bill, the current one, suspected this to be another instance of the interview game that had somehow been established last time. Or perhaps he was wrong as his future self’s face dwindled, eyes shifting elsewhere, an uncharacteristically doleful look overcoming his features. Nevertheless, like always, one smile persisted despite the emotions running wild. “I’m not sure how you feel about your mother, but I think you should try and find her. They’re... tricky things. Mothers. Something you only get one of. Mine was...” 

Another abrupt shift, this time concealing Ford’s viewpoint as it zeroed in on the human. A separate voice practically overtook it— demonic, just as Ford’s, but far rougher around the edge with danger leaking off each individual word. Bill nearly shrunk back, on guard as a shadowed figure is shown to loom over his body. 

“What _is_ this, Stanford?” The thing(man?) barked, aggravated, voice deafening in its generally appalled reaction. “The one time I push past tensions behind, and its only to see you _willingly_ allowing a pest to scurry around here?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I will have _none of this,_ Stanley, I swear,” Ford barked in response, clearly irate, snapping a book shut as his dark eyes flashed. “If every time you come and visit you are just going to _criticize me_ \--STAN, PUT HIM _DOWN NOW_ OR I SWEAR--” It was a strange thing to see in the disorientation of it, the clear tension there in Ford’s posture and voice, the bickering as if between two familair pairs of people, as if family members or...maybe close friends. 

Before Dipper could even speculate the scene shifted again and Dipper felt positively dizzy with all of it, even nauseous at the shifting of shadows, hardly able to grab hold to the edges of it all. 

It was...the forest now. Finally outside either Bill’s place or...whatever library that had been. Fresh air hit him all at once along with the setting sun, the sight of a cliff, a waterfall, and two figures there apparently...having a meal? Dipper felt the confusion turn to stupid shock as he recognized the display as a _clear_ romantic setting. He couldn’t help the thought that escaped him, ‘ _Oh god no, Bill, come on, you_ **_didn’t_ ** .’

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It was a desperate attempt at romanticizing their situation, though all in all looked relatively nice to simply take part in if it weren’t for the much more obvious intentions. There’s a blanket underneath them, a basket of fruits, bread, and wine seated in the middle, a literal plastic cup holding a rose which was clearly peak romance in its finest display. 

While the Bill now wasn’t aware of his current body state, his ears and neck were turning warm at watching the scene, noting the soft colors of the evening bouncing against Ford. How the breeze looked gentle that day, leaves passing by with the gust of wind. They shared a bottle of wine, his future self cracking jokes, steadily inching closer to take hold of the abnormally blackened hand into his own. The thought of the previous scene had entirely slipped his mind by then, and if possible, he would straight up dive into the future without hesitation, full force and willing to destroy any timelines that stripped such a simple thing away from him. 

The witch, who’s reaction or opinion didn’t matter, had rolled her eyes so hard they could have gotten stuck inside her skull.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It was a definite difference in Ford’s usual features and posture in this picture, his usual reserve, his usual tense, coarsely dangerous, cold and calm nature that typically settled over him between the two seemingly...well, shfited. Aged in a way that made him almost look as if he were relaxed there in Bill’s presence. In this scene he actually seemed more at ease, even if he clearly did not appear to grasp the setting or intention fully, a bit of that alien, demon quality still festering there, he was looking out over the vast scenery with something...almost at peace about him, almost as if enjoying it all. 

The shifts in his body, the flashes of dark shadow and weaving things seemed too almost content, idle, the demon not at all pulling away or grow agitated from Bill’s touch, not even his darker, more chaotic nature. He even smiled briefly at a well placed joke from Bill and when Ford turned his gaze to Bill, Dipper could’ve _sworn_ he saw something almost...very briefly human in the eyes. Curious. And actually too, as if he were even comfortable in the company between them. It left Dipper entirely baffled at that stark, weirdly, bizarrely impossible difference there, almost wanting to reach into the scene itself, shake Bill and scream at the ludicrousy of it all.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It had only worsened for Dipper, unfortunately so with the next array of events that blended well into one another. The light barely there, if only the slips of moonlight bleeding through the stilled curtains. Certainly a picture straight from an old cheesy movie, if not Bill’s obvious attempt at mimicking whatever romantic comedies he’s seen in the past decade. Mostly to compensate for all previous ruined relationships. There was effort placed for once. But what had eventually came to be, was.. well, Bill having one hand placed against Ford’s shoulder as he closed their distance, clearly not bothered in coming into contact with the tendrils. Both their mouths now connected, far too soft and innocent to be coming from Bill Cipher, though there’s firmness behind it all, like he was actively making a statement.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper blanched entirely. He felt stupid by the dumb shock of it all, and all he could really do was _watch._ Watch as Ford seemed to ease there into the touch, a...strange uncertainty in the movements that seemed entirely alien for him somehow for such an ancient being. There too was an almost human warmth to his otherwise terrifying features. The demon was still stiff, still not seeming to know what to do, though he was also testing it out, and for once seemed almost wanting from the other’s touch in some weird incalculable way. He was...definitely kissing back almost, or at least seeming to try and map it out, work out the details, like an equation he couldn’t quite get, couldn’t quite grasp or solve, but felt compelled to...lost just at the tip of his fingers. The tendrils too did not fight or thrash or buzz in their usual chaotic fashion, instead they were...calm almost, only curling, gentle at Bill’s form, falling up against him in the painted scene of darks and gentle colors. 

A very real squeak of disbelief left Dipper out there in the real world and he opened his eyes only for a moment, just to throw a very shocked, very stupid, dumbfounded look at Bill, jaw dropping open. “ _What_.” He whispered, unable to stop himself, though didn’t break his hold on the hands.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill was cackling. _Loud,_ manic and crazy in every way possible, the heat rising to his face as if he were baring witness to adultery in the most explicit form. He hadn’t stopped one moment, neither to open his eyes or exchange thoughts on the matter. Only the continuous streak of cackling to an unnecessary degree, causing the witch to wince and snarl at what appeared to be the _maddest_ man in Gravity Falls. 

His future self, however, was content at the kiss being reciprocated, far less jumpy and generally collected. His efforts were patient, calm, angling his head as he pressed in more, testing the waters at their own pace. Just as the rest, the scene is gone as soon as it appeared, shifting onto an odd scene of.. what? His own voice yelling at him? Never mind all that. 

“NOOOO!” Bill howled. “GO BACK! REWIND! REWIND!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper mentally cursed and like a trainwreck he couldn’t possibly keep himself from watching for too long, he found his eyes shutting again to dive right back into this...insane impossible stream of visions, gritting his teeth hard and trying to calm the steady set of nerves that were rising in him. What the actual _fuck._ What the fuck, what the fuck, what the _fuck._

In another instant, things had already shifted, and Dipper had the distinct impression this particular scene wasn’t too far off from where they were now. Except...in the scene were four figures, Ford, Bill and...two others that seemed...almost identical. Weirdly mirrored there, confusing, and overcast and disorienting. 

“Look, just calm down.” It was definitely Ford’s voice, but the tone of it was entirely different and too it was coming from someone else. “We’re not here to get ourselves killed, _Bill._ ” He grunted, and nudged what was clearly someone else yelling in Bill’s voice in the side pointedly. Dipper’s head was still reeling far, far, _far_ too much from the actual and real kiss they’d just witnessed that it was impossible for him to place any sense in the scene they were glimpsing right now. He shook his head. 

“God--Please, _please_ , don’t go back.” He groaned, but kept his eyes shut all the same.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The Bill in the picture had sharper eyes, narrowed onto his counterpart, some sorts of a triangle translucent barrier placed in front. He snapped at Ford, enraged and eyes transitioning into a flaming hot red that made his pupils blow white. “If you think he won’t kill us, then you _really_ don’t know me as well as I thought Sixer!”

These details slipped past the present Bill, as interesting as they were. As much as he _should_ be paying attention to a possible hint of death, he couldn’t help but linger on the fact there’s a chance to kiss Ford. There’s a chance for him to _return_ the kiss as well. How could he even begin to break his mind away from it? He was on cloud nine.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper was also having a lot of trouble focusing on the scenes. They were interesting. And impossible. And some distant voice in his head screamed at him to focus and pay attention, that there was clearly something important going on, but he just couldn’t shake himself from that somewhat mortified, shocked state of being he was still in. God. _God._ Was there seriously, **_seriously_ ** a real actual possibility Bill might… _manage_ a relationship with Ford? No. No. It was a kiss. Forget the way Bill looked so confident. Practiced. Like he knew what he was doing. Forget that, it was...just a kiss. Not a relationship. God even that much though was enough to feel like he’d ran headlong into a glass door and knocked himself stupid. 

The scene finally shifted, a stark, violent difference in its tone. Anticipation came from it in waves, shadows turning darker and Ford, the demon, standing towering in shock. “ _BILL!_ ” It was...something fierce, urgent there; a sharpness in his voice, a dark thing, a dangerous thing, a demanding and...oddly almost _concerned_ thing as he reached out against a blurry scenery. The demon collapsed by what was clearly Bill, face covered in blood.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

There was.. Bill’s blood-curdling screaming, the forced and choked laughter made to reassure Ford, but the smile faded as soon as it came. Bill desperately grabbed at Ford’s arms, breathing hitched, unwanted tears streaming down his blood stained face at the absolute agony of it all. He writhed violently, and that, it seemed, was enough to cease the thoughts of kissing a demon. 

Bill stared at his.. death? Was it? He was unsure. His body was still moving in the imagery, choking out Ford’s name, an apology, something about Dipper and his family. It’s all too muddled to properly hear, but it was enough to have the human’s eyes widen.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper froze, suddenly cold. Suddenly breathless. He stared. Refusing to believe what he was seeing. 

“ _Breathe,_ Bill, breathe. You’re alright, you’re going to be alright. Listen to me - remember our training, _focus_.” But Ford’s fingers were shaking, the tendrils of chaotic darkness that was his being sporadic and frantic, flashing madly at the open air, writhing and striking into nothing at a random fitful manner as he held the other there, a numb stoicness against his face and yet something in his voice, just beneath it that seemed to indicate some manner of panic. And abruptly the tendrils then turned, thrusting at Bill, expression going focused and grim. 

The image shifted just like that, gone again in a single instance, changing, shifting and Dipper felt stunned, desperate. Desperate on instinct to reach out, to pull back, to see _what_ that had been, what Ford was doing to Bill, tears stinging his closed eyes as he was left spinning and numb, eyes opening for a moment to the real world in shock.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Sympathy towards the situation was a given. Bill was.. or at least seemed, very close to kicking the bucket, his gasping only transitioning over to ecstatic laughter. The once limp figure was now healthy. Something close to it, eye covered with a black patch, though pupils cat-like and sharp as it scanned whatever what was occurring before it. Blood remained on his face, but from the twisted expression plastered onto him, it clearly didn’t belong to Cipher. No, it was someone else’s, the soft flashes of fire glowing against his features, a voice far off in the distance begging Bill to _stop._ To _please stop and think about what you’re doing._ Everything happened so quickly— ended so quickly right after— that it nearly gave him whiplash being knocked from the sight, eyes snapping open as his heart jumped up his throat. 

For a moment he forgot he was in the forest, a witch before him as he held tightly to a teen’s hand. The scream was naturally warranted.

“Would you _quit,_ ” Freya hissed, scowling as she took a step back, somewhat cautious of Bill for the briefest of seconds.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

If Dipper was told he’d be hit twice with that same amount of shock, he would’ve found it unbelievable - but there he was, standing as if something heavy and cruel had been thrust and broken right at his head. And then, as he stared at the briefest, horrifying image, hearing, he was _sure_ that--was that his voice there, somewhere? And then it was over. All of it. In a burst between them, his hands clammy and cold, gasping in a startled, unnerved manner at Bill’s scream but honestly, honestly feeling like he was right there with him. He felt just as much like he wanted to yell too, but everything felt mute, cold, numb. Dipper pulled away from the two as if realizing he were touching fire then, eyes wide, face pale, staring between them but particularly staring at Bill, meeting his gaze. “Wh...what….” he couldn’t manage it, couldn’t force it out. His head was still reeling. Emotions a furious flurry that strung, strangling at his throat. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to even say it.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

There’s... satisfaction. A heaping amount that could shift his nature within a minute, to showcase those darker intentions kept buried underneath smiles and jokes and peanut butter pies. An _eye._ That’s all it took. One eye before reaching success, obtaining those dreams that always appeared to be impossibly out of reach, but now there’s evidence. There’s _results_ of this whole thing, and if it wouldn’t upset the timeline, Bill would shove a shiv directly into his eye during the moment. Right in front of Dipper, the witch, whatever god was meant to watch over him. 

Instead, Bill merely allowed his hand to shake, casting a glance up at Freya. “Ah... that..” he managed, shaken up himself. “That.. That’s... thank you. Thank you for your time.” 

The bitter mood refused to leave. Freya, in one fell swoop, disappeared into the re-emerging fog without a trace. Without so much of the usual goodbyes that were exchanged. If anything, she almost seemed... scared? No, couldn’t be. Huh.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Freya wasn’t the only one scared. Dipper was still staring, dumbfounded and muted in some amount of horror, gaze fixated on Bill. He was still sweating, a nervous, nauseating thing, still shell shocked and shaky. He hardly looked over as the witch vanished off against the forest in a hurry, hardly even thought to do much else than stare at Bill as the two stood there. Somewhere, somehow, finally...he tried to find his voice. “Was…” His voice sounded hoarse somehow, mouth far too dry and he paused for a moment, wetting his lips, glancing off for just a second, “Was that… _real?_ ” The coarse, harsh disbelief was clear in his voice. Very clear. And almost desperate for the answer of “no.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I don’t know.” Bill’s voice was cold, yet soon calmed to a terrifying degree. He squeezed Dipper’s hand, blinking slow, an attempt at consoling the other. Something he was never quite skilled at. “Calm down, alright? It’s alright. I’m not... that.” _Yet._ “I don’t..” Bill looked around, some nervousness starting to bubble. “...Let’s head back to the car, alright? If you’re.. we can’t be out here distracted like this. It’s not safe, you know that.” 

Apparently being with Bill wasn’t safe, either. The discarded packaged teeth would unfortunately be left with the forest’s floor for the remainder of its days, as Bill was already tugging Dipper along with him back towards the way they came. Quickly, hurried, like he had forgotten something back at home.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper felt numb. Entirely numb. A horrified kind of dazed feeling overwhelming him, not sure what to do as Bill slipped his fingers back into his and squeezed in some reassurance. He didn’t even feel really like himself then as Bill spoke, and there was _some_ grounding, _some_ comfort in seeing that the other looked just as shaken as he did. And when he met those eyes, _both_ of them, there too was a rush of strange, twisted relief that they were ones he recognized. Still filled with...humanity. With emotion. With _something_ that he knew. 

He didn’t resist to being dragged along, but his head still swam, images of everything they saw there coming together, muting him entirely. He didn’t speak at all, just tumbling, falling over each and every thought as it came to him, each and every fear. 

In a startle of a moment, he felt right then and there _sure_ he had to stop this somehow. All of it. He had to do something. Anything. He still didn’t speak even as Bill kept plowing onward, out of the reach of the dangers of the woods and all they’d just seen. He still felt shell shocked, like he was trapped in a dream, like he’d left some physical, tangible part of him back in the forest, back with the witch, out back before those stream of images had come to the both of them. The teen completely silent and staring off ahead of himself, hands sweaty and useless by his sides. Eventually he looked over, and found himself voicing thoughts he wasn't even sure he realized he'd had. 

"Are...how are you..." What was he even trying to say? He swallowed, stared back in front of him and tried again. "Are you...okay?"

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m _fine._ I’m fine. I’m...” Filled with horror and shock and morbid excitement that caused his gut to twist in a sickeningly way. He wasn’t a murderer. Bill always tried establishing that wherever he went, that he never once _killed_ a person, if only supernatural life that posed as a threat and animals for some sense of relief, but he wouldn’t call himself a _murderer._ Did he have nothing except wealth? Sure, but he cared about Dipper, his well being and him having a healthy lifestyle that didn’t repeat the disgusting domino effect of his own. “God, I’d...” he couldn’t even look Dipper in the face, only kept dragging away in hopes of seeing his car between the trees. “..I would never hurt you. Please, remember that. That’s— god, that’s all I want you to know, alright? If there’s anything I won’t do, it’s that. It’s hurting you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Again, something settled there over him. Something...solid and even comforting in a way. Touching and warm and powerful. It was that connection, that kind of brief thing that showed clearly at times just like this from Bill. That really touched him. Made him feel honestly cared for and like whatever horrible, crazy, absolute absurd nonsense that might happen out there or even between them (or even _because_ of Bill,) Bill would still have his back. Still would _be there_ for him. And for someone who didn’t really have a lot of friends, or a lot of people that that could be said for...it really got to him. It settled over him at the promise and he swallowed, fighting over the numb, terrified emotions that warred over him all the while. 

“I--right. No, I…” He trailed uselessly for a moment, still desperately searching for any kind of words, anything he could grasp onto that didn’t fall, screaming into the pit of everything they’d just witnessed. He failed for the most part, but tried again. “I know. I know that.” He paused, a stretch of a silence, an anxious, cold thing. “Maybe...maybe it’s just...possible futures, you know? Like...ideas. Things that _could_ happen.” He tried, putting that thought out there. “Just...branches of futures…”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Maybe.” Bill was filled with doubt. Hard doubt at the hopeful suggestions that flew from Dipper, probably in hopes of calming himself after everything he just seen. “She... did say some weren’t set in stone,” he added, just for good measure, to level out this horrible cluster of emotions and fear. “There’s a chance any one of those events could change. We’ll just.. keep our heads up and continue being.. decent people. I’m sure it’s fine.” 

He wasn’t, but there was an excuse to break away from the conversation as he fished his keys out. One click of the button, then the next sound of the car unlocking. By then he reluctantly released Dipper, slipping into the driver’s seat. He needed a smoke. _Something._

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper too was climbing into the car, a lump heavy in his throat, but he nodded, still fighting with himself and the very real, cold fear there. “Look.” He began, already trying to bring this back on a level, on something they could deal with, “All we have to do is be really, really aware of it. And steer clear of anything that gets to that...point. Also just, we just need to...keep an eye out for all those other visions too. Just...I mean, if we can change even one of them, it makes sense that it’s not in stone. Right? Beside, it’s all got to change if we _saw_ it, you know? Now that you heard those conversations, they’re not going to be _exactly_ the same way.” He continued, sounding very sure of himself, a lot more sure than he felt. “Besides, no one can know the future, not really. It was probably...just...vague possibilities. Branches...or something.” He continued, gesturing uselessly as he pulled the door shut beside him, snapping on his seatbelt automatically, still feeling numb and clammy and all too shaky, but doing his best to get back onto a ground the two could work from.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“If me and Ford change from kissing to _not_ kissing, I don’t know what I’ll do.” Bill’s laugh was the most awkward it’s ever been, cracking somewhere between its strained delivery. He was trying to lighten the mood, not that it was necessarily possible by this point. For now he focused on backing out, rolling down the hill and further crushing the inspirational sign of Jesus underneath his wheels, skirting up grass and dirt, ruining the entire lawn. Thankfully the police department(not that the two in there were useful) didn’t seem active, or at least aware of someone being out this early ruining religious grounds.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Find a normal, regular girlfriend, maybe.” Dipper commented without missing a beat, working hard to ride on that lighter tone, the joking sarcasm of a familiar banter between them. But it felt tense. Forced. And his expression still reflected an undertone of deep worry. “Look, let’s just keep an eye out for everything.” And in the meantime, he had some more research to do. He felt entirely certain, now more than ever, that the next few weeks for him would be filled with nothing but pouring over his book and anything he could get his hands on for clues on how to reverse all of this, to stop it.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Ford is the only girlfriend I need,” Bill replied, a tad breathless on his end of the conversation. He kept his driving smooth, soon letting down all the windows as breezes swept inside refreshingly. If he was anymore closer to having a breakdown, he would have blasted the radio and sung at the top of his lungs until collapsing into a crying fit. “...I will. I’m gonna.. go and donate to charities and chop fruit for the homeless. All of it! New leaf! The new leaf starts right now, kid! Hell— should I turn around? Church service?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

That got a laugh from Dipper. He couldn’t help it. And in that moment, the horror of it, it was almost a horribly needed thing. That break in it, the contrast to lighten a hole in the atmosphere between them. “You know, I think we’ll manage just fine without the service. Probably just condemning us both to hell anyway.” He said as if reminding the other of a very valid point. After all, weren’t they both playing with demons in one way or another? “New leaf though, that...yeah, that’s a good idea.” His tone wavered slightly, dipping back into the nerves, into the cold fear of everything around them, though he fought to keep it light. 

They’d just...need to be alert. And careful. And in the meantime, Dipper would tear apart any piece of information he had to fix things. 

There was a pause there as Dipper fidgeted with his hands slightly, glancing uneasily out the window. When he finally spoke, his voice was cautious. “Are you...are you going to tell Ford about any of this?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Fuck no._ Hell no. _Hell_ no, kid. Absolutely not. The love of my life must remain untainted from these visions!” Untainted was such an ironic word that it didn’t make sense, but Bill _saw_ the way Ford looked at him when he was on the ground. Was it worry? Did they have a relationship established by then? He wanted to know but didn’t at the same time. It was frustrating and... sad, if anything. “I love the guy, I do. Some things... are better left unspoken. Just between you and me. I’d.. rather not see someone I’m in love with that sad. Not that he probably would care _now,_ but. No. Let’s not saying anything. Ever.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Bill...he’s not in love with you. I mean--” And he honestly could not believe he was saying this, “I mean, not...not _yet…_ ” Dipper found himself actually _visibly_ cringing at the words, even the sound of them ringing some disbelief. But he too remembered what he saw, even if his entire focus had been on the _blood_ at that time, had been on Bill, had been on his form there against the ground speaking as if he were genuinely dying. The images made him pale, going a shade whiter. “Maybe--I mean, couldn’t he know something about this? He has to. He _is_ a demon of “infinite knowledge.” He could probably shed some light on...on if it’s all real or not anyways. Or...you know, what we can do.” He paused, staring at his hands as if somehow they had all the answers, but they just came back clammy and pale looking. “I...I still can’t believe that he...that you guys…” He took a breath, “I still can’t believe it.” The “relationship,” that was what he was talking about and it sat numb there for a second. “And--and his...did he say he was _half human?_ ” He asked suddenly, shocked by the revelation as the stream of images started to gain more clarity while his mind piled through hem all.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“...Yes, _yet._ ” Bill’s own coping mechanism was squeezing the wheel repeatedly, leather squeaking underneath the death grip. He needed food. Substance. Coffee, something. It’s the reason why he strayed from the usual route back to Dipper’s place, squeezing into the relatively emptied Greasy Diner’s lot. They were open, at least, the 24/7 sign plastered onto the window, the pleasant smell of bacon and waffles wafting throughout the air. Though he made no effort to leave the car at first, simply settling back into his seat as he finally directed his attention towards the teen. “Okay I’m.. pretty surprised too,” he admitted, like some baggage had been lifted. “I mean, fuck, okay. Kid, not gonna lie. I was fully going into me courting Ford with the expectation of having my spine ripped from my throat. Now that I know _this_ ? That he’s part human? I’m going to..” Bill shook, and at first, it looked like he was breaking down, about to enter some energy draining fit until he spoke again. “I’m going to _screw_ the brains out of him, Pine Tree. Ignore my recently obtained Parkinson’s Disease—I’m going to _fuck_ the life out of that man. Do you hear me, kid? Drop all fucked up things we saw and _listen_ to the prophecy I am foretelling in this car. With _you,_ my very BEST FRIEND.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper hardly realized they’d come to a stop until Bill sat back and he was left to numbly stare again down at his hands, shaking his head mutely with a wince at the entirety of these events as he found himself unable to tear away from them. And when Bill turned his attention to him, it took him to that moment, him looking back up to the other, still pale and caught in some kind of cycled state of infinite shock. And Dipper studied him, frowning as Bill seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, as if trying to grasp onto something, as if maybe he was going to lose it at the weight of everything that had just gone down. Concern knitted onto Dipper’s features, worry deep in his gaze, well, all until the actual final reveal, the sure and certain promise, a look of very new, very real disbelief coming over him. “O-Oh my god.” He whispered, shaking his head and suddenly groaning into his hands. “Oh my _god_ , you are--you are crazy.” It was like a desperate plea to some nameless god and he lifted his head to look at the other again. “Bill, you are crazy. No. No, don’t. _**Don’t** _ screw the infinite knowledge demon. That is a-a horrible...terrible… _**horrible idea**. _ ” It should not surprise him honestly that _that_ had been the take away.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m going to _fuck_ him lovingly—“ this, in a way, was another mechanism. Spouting obscenities in order to conceal the more distraught part of himself. It worked somewhat. Dipper made it work with his reactions. “You say no but how _cool_ would it be to have two dads? One that’s an irresistible human, the other is a creature that could peel your liver. Imagine..“ That barely sounds functional in theory, let alone reality. Bill took the keys out, hands still keeping a tremor as he tucked them away into his pocket. Money was never an issue, obviously. It wouldn’t hurt to buy them a decent breakfast for once. “What do you think he _has_ ?” He continued, unfortunately so. “Y’know.. just tentacle things? I don’t mind.. just. What do I do with that? I can’t just keep getting penetrated, I need some _mix_ up. What if _I_ want to do the penetrating sometimes? Huh? Ever thought about that?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh my god, stop. Jesus--no. _No_ , Bill. No new dads--oh my **_god_ ** _no._ ” He insisted at it all, waving his arms in a cross before looking on in horror. Even if he wasn’t appreciating it at all in that moment, it wasn’t just working as a decent distraction on the entire mess for Bill. In all honesty, it _definitely_ drew his attention away from everything that happened, that was for sure. He spluttered at the last series of questions. “ _Oh my god,_ I am not listening to this.” Dipper actually shoved his hands to his ears, groaning out loud. “I’m not hearing this. No. No, I do not want to hear this.” He only stopped to fumble at the door, stumbling his way outside the car, trying desperately to wash those images entirely from his head without real success.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill smiled, if only barely at Dipper’s reaction. A mission success, kinda. His mouth zipped shut at the graphic detail as he finally made his way out the vehicle, inhaling the greasy smell, stretching, listening to the pigeons near the curb pick and nibble at leftover fries. A life. His, for that matter. “Never been here,” he decided to mention, circling around and over to Dipper’s side. “Gonna have to hit me with some good recommendations.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper, grateful for the end of _that_ slew of definitely scarring images, slowly dropped his hands and gave the other a wary, somewhat beaded look. But he’d test the waters here if it took them from that general area of thought. “Seriously? You’ve never been to Greasy's diner…?” He actually could vaguely recall Bill mentioning this before, that he actually didn’t eat _anything_ outside of...whatever imported richy food he had in his house, but he was also half sure they’d possibly been high at the time. He frowned, raising a brow at the other. “Well uh, sure. I mean, they’ve got plenty of decent stuff. Pancakes, burgers...grilled cheese. Look, come on, I’ll show you.” He gestured, heading out toward the familiar space. He, Mabel and uncle Fiddleford came here pretty often honesty. “Seriously, if you’ve never had…like, “peasant food” compared to your “high and mighty noble cuisine” this is a great place to start.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hey now. I’m only fifty percent snob. Im not knocking on you guys for eating... this stuff.” That definitely sounded offensive in a way, but, truthfully, most of everything from what he could already smell was probably the tipping edge of high blood pressure and diabetes. It’s not like he was the _most_ healthiest man ever, and it’s not like he was exactly built too muscular either(didn’t matter when you had money). It was just... new, is all. He followed behind, glancing around curiously. “I grew up in a family that banned fast food, barely used seasoning if any in the cooking. I’m still breaking outta the shell! Give me a break.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“...Uhuh.” Dipper responded dubiously, eyeing the other as they entered the diner. In front of them were a series of booths, a counter, a few locals and the great and powerful smell of bacon. That and a “manly testing” machine that won you free pancakes if you could prove yourself in it. Dipper _detested_ that machine. Seriously. Who makes those kinds of tests anyways? He was still convinced it was rigged or specified to “Manly Dan” levels. “Man, that must’ve been...terrible.” Dipper commented, briefly trying to picture it. Yeah, it still reminded him a lot of Pacifica honestly. And he grinned slightly at the thought, shaking his head at the idea of the rich, far too out of touch blond headed girl. 

He took in a deep breath and gestured to the tables. “But right. You ready for a new experience? Here in this normal...you know, every day, commoners restaurant.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You get use to it.” 

There’s a few people behind the counter, clanking away within the kitchen and taking calls. The only other customers inside the diner were two elders quietly smacking on grits and coffee as they read through newspapers. Bill forgot that existed for the moment until physically _seeing_ a copy. “I’m always ready for a new experience,” he grinned, slipping into the table of his preference. “Why do you think I do drugs and sleep with strangers? That’s all this human lifespan has time for before kicking the dust. Eventually I’ll get old and you’ll have to wheel me around. Ha! Wouldn’t that be hilarious? All the wheelchair puns we could come up with?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper followed suit, sliding into the seat across, feeling oddly comforted by the old place. He, his uncle, occasionally his cousin and Mabel had been coming here for years. There was something oddly grounding about being there again honestly, especially considering all that had just happened. 

He had to give a slight grin at the idea, chuckling. “God, yeah, that’ll be a fun day. Have to beat you off from flirting with literally all the other eldery folks and otherwise.” That was, unless this whole thing with Ford _actually_ panned out. Not something he wanted to consider. He didn’t let himself linger on the thought or the brief, terrifying flash of Bill, not entirely human, coated in blood and a pleading voice that...struck him as far too familiar. Far too much like _his_. His grin faltered, but just for a moment before he coughed a bit awkwardly and raised a hand to wave over the usual waitress, Lazy Susan. 

“We’ll uh, we’ll have two cheeseburgers, please. Extra cheese.” Heck. If Bill was going to be introduced to artery clog inducing greasy commoner’s food, he was going to do it right.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Don’t have to worry about all that. Once I hit my sixties I’m sure this thing,” Bill gestured below his waistline, laughing, “will give out by then. It’s up to you to keep me entertained. Just no crossword puzzles or knitting. Besides, hopefully I’ll be hitched by then. If not to Ford, then some woman I have absolutely no interest in aside from procreating and passing down my seed. The natural process of things.” Sounds horrible, honestly. 

Lazy Susan was over in an instant, smiling, notepad in hand, her jersey accent oddly comforting this early in the day. “Comin’ right up,” she chirped, scribbling the order down. “Any sides with that? Y’know, we’ve just introduced with this new soda. It’s called _Pineapple Passion._ Doesn’t that just roll off the tongue?” 

Bill remembered this woman barely. If anything he only recalled her walking several cats with harnesses, generally being a freak who couldn’t keep her mouth shut. He continued to grin, however. “Ohhhh, yeah yeah! We love carbonated beverages that make our teeth rot!” 

Susan hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm. “Haha! I know right? It’s great! Two Pineapple Passions coming right up!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He snorted. “Man, that sounds awful.” He laughed lightly, grinning weakly and shaking his head. “God, why would you even want that.” He demanded, trying not to picture Bill with...actual demon babies. Christ. His gaze shifted as Lazy Susan took their order, leaning back while she suggested the drinks. Again, the whole of it, even her presence, really felt a bit more...well, real to the boy. Like trying to sit back into his old life again, if it were possible. “Uh, thanks!” He told her, glancing to Bill. “Have you ever...actually had soda before?” He asked then, somewhat hastily, giving a slight grin at the thought that the other was too high class for even that much.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Nope. Had sparkling water, snorted coke off a meth head’s back, nearly killed myself sky diving, but can’t say I ever considered taking a sip of some dear ole soda pop.” Definitely strange. Old habits happened to die hard. Wines, juices, and martinis were his main source of getting a swig. Soda? Well, no. He couldn’t remember ever drinking a can, which in itself was surprising considering how much shit he’s done. Susan smiled as she parted to the back, hooking the note on a pin so the chef could get a proper look.

“What’s it like? Fizzy? Does it burn your throat? You trying to kill me, kid?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He chuckled, “Man, you’ll be fine. Trust me, it’s just...well, it’s just a lot of sugar. And you know, it’s carbonated.” He leaned back, trying to mull over everything, still trying to keep hold to a smile _and_ the current surroundings rather than spiral backward at all. He guessed there were...probably worse times that were generally obvious, difficult topics that he'd worked through with bad soda and greasy burgers. “You know, me and Mabel actually spent _a lot_ of time in this diner over the last couple of years. God, at first it was the only place uncle Fiddleford could afford to take us.” He said a bit wistfully, still laughing lightly at the thought.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Probably why you’re gonna get acne one of these days,” Bill commented, gesturing to his own skin, which, surprisingly so, was fairly clear for someone who did hardcore drugs whenever he got bored or needed a hit for inspiration. “We never went out to restaurants unless it was for certain holidays. Easter and all that mess. Food was dry!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He laughed, “God, I hope not. Avoided it so far, but man, who knows in the future.” He grinned. On one hand what a world it would be if that was the majority of his worries. On the other hand… _what a world it would be_ if _that_ were the majority of his worries. Even in moments like this, even in the displaced chaos of emotions there, he wasn’t sure he could stand living like that, living without all of this. “And hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!” He commented, “Though it was always the opposite for us growing up. Man, my mom could cook. Have the whole family over for the holidays, mostly Hanukkah and things.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Pfft. The hell did you live at? Picture this: a cozy cult-like town in the middle of nowhere, all religious nuts who wore white, spoke the same, and regularly ate bland turkey and bread with no butter. The Cipher special!” As he was speaking, the sizzling of meat could be heard, along with the smell that had wafted over towards their table. It involuntarily made Bill’s stomach growl. Rather loudly, at that. “Speaking of cooking, I’ve picked up the _skill,_ by the way. Soon I’ll be whipping up Soupe à l’oignon! Some Ratatouille! _Hon hon hon._ ”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Holy crap.” He laughed, “That sounds like a nightmare.” He agreed readily and if possible, he laughed even harder as Bill continued. “Okay, I’ve _got_ to see this. You can really cook? Not like, “Mabel cook” can cook, but actually, good tasting, not food poisoning kind.” He asked, still grinning a bit ridiculously. His stomach was actually beginning to growl shockingly as the smell of the burgers filtered through the diner.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’ve been googling recipes in my spare time.” When he wasn’t talking to Ford or researching, that is. “I don’t know how good I am at it? We’ll find out! Chef Cipher has a nice ring to it. Only downside is this town lacks a good portion of the ingredients needed in these dishes.” 

Bill’s mouth was a little watery. He tried distracting himself as he watched Susan fill two cups with ice, then stepping on over to the soda machine. “...Ford told me he eats. Not what we eat, obviously. I _am_ planning on making him something. Got any, uh,” god, he almost appeared to be shy over speaking on it. If only. “You know.. suggestions for what a demon might like? Goat sacrifices are off the table, by the way.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He snorted. “Sounds dangerous.” He joked, “But heck, why not. Can’t be any more deadly than Mabel’s question mark pot roast. Count me in as a taste tester.” Dipper himself could honestly say he was not particularly good at cooking. Uncle Fiddleford mostly took care of that, though...well, not that he couldn’t get by. Tacos and pizza and scrambled eggs, things like that. _Necessities_. He hesitated then, looking dubious, but letting out a slightly awkward laugh despite it. 

“Well. Look. From what I read about Ford, he’s not into that stuff anyways. I don’t know, just…” He kinda waved a hand, “Maybe make something...normal? Just whatever you like to eat, why not. Or I guess you could always ask him.” He considered, wincing, “I really have no idea.” And tried to push again the image of the two on some romantic picnic with actual wine from his mind or bite back the thought that “ _Apparently you figure it out eventually._ ” It still felt way too soon.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Hey,_ ” Bill chuckled lightly, passing a brief thanks as Susan set down their fizzing drinks. He glanced down in his cup, watching bubbles rise to the surface, clinging around the ice cubes. “You’re related to a heartbreaker there. She’s gonna end up on one of those reality networks where men fight to the death over her, so that pot roast is gonna he worth _millions._ I’m calling it now.” 

Bill ripped the paper from his straw a little recklessly, giving the beverage a whiff. Well. Did smell like pineapple. There’s that. “He eats cosmic energies or whatever, kid. I can’t compete with that in general. That’s why I asked for your expertise since you’re clearly the experienced Casanova between us.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“God, there won’t be many boys to fight over her after they’ve had a try at her cooking.” He grinned, “But heck, guess that’ll be the proof if they really like her or not though. A real trial by fire.” God, if Mabel ever heard him talking like this...he shook his head, chuckling. 

Before he hesitated, finally considering the other. “Cosmic energies? Well, man, I don’t know. Who even knows if he’s tasted food before.” He frowned. “God, I guess he must’ve if he’d been raised on earth for a while, right?...Do you think his mom just...raised him and his brother as humans?” He asked hastily. It was kind of an overwhelming thought that hit him, trying to even make an attempt to picturing that.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Probably. That’s been so long ago that he just forgot all the enjoyable things about being human! And needs some reminding, if you catch my drift.” Bill went in for an experimental taste. Instantly sorta.. burned? But not really. It’s quite pleasant, though generally overbearingly sweet. He smacked his lips together, going through an array of emotions before finally settling on something close to satisfied. “Know what? Not bad. Not bad at all. I feel like this is a homosexual beverage, Pine Tree. And I, as we know, am not a homosexual, so this is misleading flavor wise.” 

There’s definitely more to be added to that wreck of a statement. Their burgers come soon enough, thankfully, hot and grease slicking from the meat. Bill made another face, removing the top bun and inspecting the burger for any.. poisons, probably. Who knew. Either way, he was very concentrated in the detective work taking place.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You are _clearly_ a homosexual. Or...bisexual...homosexual. You still like men, so man, it counts.” He jabbed a finger in the other’s direction as if to clarify the point. But he was grinning still, albeit it was slight, even as he tried the new drink. He squinted at it, feeling a little overly judgemental of the fruity flavor. Not that he didn’t like those kinds of things like Pitt Soda, for instance, but this was...kinda much with the tropical angle.

“And ugh, _no,_ please, I don’t want to catch your drift.” He made a face, and even made a show of pushing his plate away as if he’d lost his appetite over the comment. It lasted all of a second before he pulled it back though, eager to dig in, giving a slight laugh as Bill inspected the food. “Hey, come on man, it’s not going to bite. Try it out. Hell, maybe you can even make one of these for Ford.” Who knew, maybe burgers and sloppy joes would be a treat for the demon.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Homosexual,” Bill echoed, peeling the lettuce away. There’s ketchup and mustard underneath, some pickles, and the cheese clinging to the patty. He could already envision his father scolding him for even considering this, let alone coming into contact with such a thing. Bill groaned softly, rebuilding the burger as he mentally braced for sinking his teeth in. “ _My_ wifehusband wont be going anywhere near all this. He’s only eating top of the line. Gotta keep him pure before we hit third base.” 

It took the minimum of ten seconds before he gave in. Teeth meeting against a soft, warm bun littered in sesame seeds. Then there’s the combining flavors of vegetables, condiments and meat that make his eyes widened slightly. 

Oh. That’s not.. bad. Not bad at all. Did he feel like this would give him heart disease? Absolutely, but that didn’t take away from how good the food was.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He rolled his eyes, “Ugh, wifehusband?" He decided not to elaborate on the near groan that came from him, "Right, well, just make him...I don’t know, some white fish or something then. That’s… “clean,” right?” Maybe. Probably. Heck at least it sounded like something his mom would’ve had once upon a time and she’d been the pinnacle of clean eating. "Maybe a salad? Aren't there sites out there that put these dishes together, pair them with wines and things?" 

Dipper’s amusement was showing pretty clearly at Bill’s reaction to the food and he chuckled before decidedly joining the other, taking a hold of his as well and going for a large bite. God. it was fantastic. Not even cooked all the way so entirely too juicy, slipping through his fingers as he chewed. “See,” He said around an all too amazing mouthful of burger, struggling to chew as he talked, “ _This_ is food.” And he swallowed before continuing, “I mean...probably clogged arteries too, but _good food_ all the same.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Salads are lame!” Bill announced with a mouth full. There’s already ketchup on the side of his mouth, somewhat matching the more innocent face he was wearing in the moment. Cue him practically shoving the thing down his throat, eating far too fast, making a mess yet _still_ avoiding staining his clothing. A gift of a talent. “Haha if I—“ another bite. Sunlight was basically radiating off the man. “—get high blood pressure, you know I’m going to break your legs, right? I’m gonna snap them in half!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He snorted between bites, clearly not taking the threat very seriously. “I’m telling you, even if you do this’ll _still_ be worth it.” He was definitely enjoying the burger, maybe not as much as Bill, but for the day they had it was _fantastic_ and definitely needed. After everything that had happened it was honestly shocking just how _hungry_ he was too. The taste and flavor exploding over him as he ate almost as fast as Bill was wolfing his down, grinning at the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rex: Hey hey! Welcome to the end of the chapter, congrats on making it. Forgot to add my own fanart design of that last vision in sequence, so why not.


	7. Meditation, Dreamscape, and Dinner Dates

It’s a memory that won’t be lost. 

A simplistic memory, one that held more merit in comparison to others. It’s strange how life worked that way. Bill was never able to work through this process, of why smaller, much more insignificant times such as eating together or small touches could invoke strong emotions. Eating burgers for breakfast inside a greasy smelling establishment with a teenager shouldn’t be on the top ten best things he’s done in his life, but it was, and strangely enough, he didn’t mind it. 

It’s a thing he pondered over for a while, specifically as he sat inside, watching the rain downpour over everything in his front lawn. His little garden patch had clearly flooded for now. The greenhouse investment should have been top priority at some point, but all Bill could do was sit back and watch his lilies break free from the soil, muddying and drowning. It’s a mini funeral. One he didn’t dwell on for far too long as he retrieved Ford’s book, settling within the den where his unnecessarily large fireplace and long forgotten piano sat. He set the piece down on the table, flipping to the page, and recited the summoning process with ease.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The response was not immediate, not like it normally would be. Instead a gentle silence filled the room in the flickering flame of the firelight, the seconds crawling on by. Typically without fail, the demon tended to appear almost instantly once the reciting had been given, or the intention placed to pull him forward, however it was not so this night. Eventually, perhaps after a minute or so too far along, the book _finally_ sparked to life, shots of electricity scattering off the page as a dark, looming figure emerged and rose to tower from the depths of the page, filling up into the room. 

“William.” He greeted curtly, voice level but not unfriendly. “And...just how are you this evening?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The delayed arrival sparked curiosity initially. Bill didn’t push it. It was a first, but at least he knew prior to going in what their last meeting consisted of. Connecting the dots was easier in that regard, so he simply sat down, patient, arm propped on the armrest as he gazed off into flame, listening to the trickling rain from the outside. Enough to almost lull him asleep until the familiar face appeared, prying the regularly welcoming smile from him. “How about I ask you that first?” He asked, entirely lax. “You doing alright?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yes.” he chuckled, and it seemed to be in some level of good nature, or what accounted as much for the demon, a swath of black shadows and dark vines dancing listless against the room, his many colored eyes listless, not anything too unusual considering. “I must admit that our last…” He hesitated, but a smile found his lips, “"session" took more out of me than I had anticipated.” But he was still grinning just the same, as if maybe even fond of the memory, an almost warm and fierce thing in its undertones. “Yet I digress. It is good you called me here tonight, after all I think it’s about time I taught you a few meditation techniques, William.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill waved a hand, laughing quietly. The usual high-pitched cackling would be reserved for another, much less cloudy day. He was comfortable. Meditation, if anything, was fairly perfect for the moment at hand. There’s no major disturbances, despite some previous recollections attempt to reappear and ruin the overall atmosphere. He shoved them to the way back for later. For another time. “Ah, stop. You’ll make me blush with the way you’re looking at me.” He shifted, giving Ford his full attention. “I’m all ears then. Hit me with it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford obliged with a small, curt nod and gestured a hand to Bill before the fireplace. His own shadow struck out, spilling at the surface of the floor, still attached in a cast of lines to the book even as he gently wafted over it. “I would ask you to now do as I do.” And the demon moved down to a sitting position, crossing his legs over one another, his posture clear, straight and firm. “There is much about the human race...about this life and this cosmos that you do not know, Cipher. That you could not even begin to imagine. If you truly wish to extend your life, if you truly wish to reach levels that your ancestors once trekked...then you will take this in very carefully. Many, many vast pieces of knowledge and practice have been lost to the tides of this world. To “progressive” ideas, to class, technology. To culture. Society. The gifts of this cosmos taken from your species as a penance for your ideals of progress, sacrifice of work, the removal of yourselves from everything there is both among the cosmos and among the very stirring of life that thrives on this world.” He then paused and carefully took a breath, a slow, considering space festering, settling into his lungs. “Take these words well, Cipher: everything in this cosmos is connected. Everything interrelated. Every star, every planet, every sun, all interwoven in a chain of vast and impossible cosmic energies, and every form of matter, every atom, of every molecule, of your being...as well as mine are made up of these energies.” Ford reached his hand and took a gentle hold of Bill’s, opening it palm up against his own carefully, studying it with an air of thought. “Every...physical, nonphysical, and otherwise...it is all a part of the same tune, Bill. I am simply teaching you how to sync within this tune. To take it into you and gain true, authentic vitality that it rings.” He took another momeng, taking gentle hold of Bill’s hands and guiding him on the floor beside where he sat. “There are a few very important things to remember during this process. Firstly, meditation in its conception is very simple. And in that simplicity, one can say it is _impossibly_ , absurdly difficult to understand. Most men live their entire lives studying it, slaving themselves to it without scratching the nature of its reality, even seeing the very edge of its surface or potential. You are very lucky in this way, for you have me here to guide you.

“You must focus on a few specifics in the start of this. The first idea to keep careful and in mind: your spine must remain straight, always. Energy cannot flow there and simply placed you have no hope of connection without this. However...force is not the correct word. Firmly guiding your intention, your will, your thoughts into a space of connecting your spine to the heavens, _that_ is the goal that will guide you to the correct space for a length of time...connection with the outdid world will guide you there as well. Keep your chest open and more important than anything, Cipher, _breathe._ Without breath, you have nothing.” He instructed, firmly but also in it something soft and clear, “And by remaining in this posture, soon enough you will gather yourself, ground yourself, and become a part of this pattern of the universe around you. You will feel, _sense_ the energy there. Connect to it and naturally find what all life forms that do not separate themselves, delude themselves discover."

He took a second to study the human. “It’s...a lot to take in, I am aware. And this is something I can only show you, share with you on some deeper levels, though not ones that will be said in words. You may study me, observe my energy, notice the connection...and form your own methods to do the same. While I can teach you the structural aspects of this as well as the physical postures and poses, while the space I exhibit can prey into a glimpse of such an energy, it is not something you can learn in a book or by speech. Not something you can read or be told, not precisely. You can only master it by keeping the structural aspects true and _doing_ before simply following your specific intuition from there. But if you do master this William, I assure you, you will be able to enter and traverse the dreamscape at will. Not just the pocket dimension of our home, the one we now share, but too in your own mind. Perhaps one day, with enough practice, other minds as well, traverse the space of the world as something of a spirit, should you wish it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill listened intently, taking in every word carefully, processing it all, the overwhelming bundle of information suddenly dropping onto him like a boulder enough to cause temporary short-circuiting. He longed for a notepad or recorder to compensate for his lack of readiness, though at the time was too preoccupied in his own unimportant thoughts consisting of plants that could easily be fucking replaced by next week. And then Ford _touches_ him willingly, again, being such a simplistic action that shouldn’t bare as much weight as it did, even with him knowing that the possible implications and weight would never directly transfer over to Ford from his perspective. This was only a lesson. As it should be. 

Even clustered within those thoughts of the odd otherworldly texture and shape of strange fingers, he paid attention, easily pulled from his seat as he joined Ford on the cooled floors of his manor. Each instruction, he mimicked, back straightening and legs crossed, a sort mix between fascination and fondness combining into one. Corners of Bill’s mouth tugged upward, faint, but meaningful all at once as that same inquisitive tilt to his head always appeared once Ford got deeper into his explanations. “You’re right,” he finally said, eyes unable to pry themselves away. “It.. is much to take in, but I got this. Even if it takes weeks.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford chuckled. “The entering of the mindscape could take a very short period of time, days even, perhaps, with my hand to guide you. However, the practice of these deeper ideas? Of these more intricate concepts? I’m afraid you will be studying and building these things for the rest of your life, Cipher.” He assured the other. 

“Beyond leaving this space as something of a...form of energy, so to say, the more notable aspect of this practice is being that you will be capable of significantly extending your life. Perhaps even dipping into these things mortals of this age refer to as “magic,” should you desire it. It is a vast well to draw from, all beginning at merely _sensing_ these energies, so one day you might reach out, dip into them, and take them for your own musings. Create what you will in the ways you want. If you should reach this level of magic, this source of cosmos, there is much you can do with it. Though,” A slight twitch of his lips, “For the future, I think perhaps. For now I think, this is sufficient information to get started.”

He shut his eyes gently, and as he did a calm washed over Ford’s features. When he breathed it was slow, expansive, and quiet, as if settling, pooling into a place of his own, into a space of endless, almost unnatural quiet. Alert. Aware. The dancing of his shadows remained in the silence, flashing out lazily against the firelight, the rain the only significance in that moment along with the subtle dancing light of flame.

Through their connection, surely Bill would feel the sensation of it, the weight behind his focus. The power of endlessness, of the very earth and the skies and the energies that teamed there, shifting, at a constant. Perhaps even see, on some level, the myriad of colors and infinite that spread there among the air between them. “You are to remain like this. Practice this with me. Soon enough, in this silence, I am certain you will find the proper space.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s eyes slipped shut, soon inhaling and then releasing at his own pace. Meditation normally... never worked for him. Obviously previous attempts weren’t meant to access dreamscape or reach full potential of “magic,” but to enter a more calming space whenever he needed to relax or clear his head. It failed. Each and every time, if only the silence making his mind _unbearable_ to endure. Someone once told him, right in the middle of hotboxing inside a convertible, that he, Bill Cipher, was afraid of his own thoughts. Brushing it off as “2deep4u” metaphorical nonsense was the first reaction, but after spending years and years attempting this... there’s now a concrete answer. 

Maybe he was. Though what he’s experiencing from Ford’s side is bizarre and extraordinary all at once, there’s paranoia. Still, even with the sudden tensing, and perhaps a loss of control on the pattern of breathing, he kept straight, eyes remaining screwed shut.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford seemed to sense the other’s discomfort, but there was only a slight smile there to greet it, even as he remained still. It was to be expected. No one learned or mastered such things without work. Hopefully with his own energy it would prove to sooth Bill’s chaotic mind to some length and hopefully too, in the space there, he would teach Bill instinctively if nothing else to connect in this way. “Simply continue as you are, Bill. In time, intuition will take over. Even if it is quite a great length of time.” He assured the other. “You may connect your fingers in a mudra as such as well, it will prove to ground you and too connect certain rivers of energy.” Ford did just this, using what might’ve been his pointer finger among the six shadowed wreathes of fingers and his thumb, still keeping his eyes closed.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Uh.” Bill hesitated for a moment, perhaps trying to engage more thoroughly before continuing. On the outside, his face faltered slightly. “How do you just.. stop all your thoughts? Does that happen to you?” It’s almost an innocent type of question, but clearly genuine from the way he’s wording it. He listened regardless, connecting an index with his thumb. “I mean.. all these goddamn voices? Swarming around? I could be insane, that might be it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He chuckled at that, an actual amusement to his tone. “You do not stop the thoughts, Cipher. And let me assure you that no, it is not abnormal. Albeit perhaps thatis not entirely true...to your extent.” He gave a light grin at the words, “It is not something to fear however. Eventually, by doing this practice, and further allowing your intentions and breathing to guide you, it will silence the thoughts. In the meantime, no, you do not stop them. You simply allow them to exist as you practice. Allow yourself to exist. In this space, in the moment. The fire, and myself. In this space that continues to move even as your thoughts try to consume it. The cosmos will always continue Bill, remember this, with or without either of us, as will this breath, and the next one and the one after that. This breath is all there is in this cosmos, all that matters. There is nothing else but this very moment that takes into your body and then drifts from it in that wave. In this way, time is but an illusion. A farce. Reality is in the moment, in what lies at our feet. Both of us, right now...this is reality.” He took in another breath, deeper then. “In time, you will see this.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You’re so deep,” Bill commented off-handedly, not at all meant to be misconstrued as an insult, if more of a simplistic observation that expressed interest and willingness. It was only a clunky conclusion to the impulsive thoughts trying to flee his mouth. “I’m not even sure how you begin articulate your sentences that way. It’s.. comfy. And clear.” 

Maybe not enough, but something as he tried easing into himself. That is, if he could shut up for more than five minutes. “Were, uh. Were you always able to do this..? Just close your eyes, breathe, and... do it?” Excellent put together. Why did he feel nervous? Out of place? These emotions were unnecessary and unprompted. There’s nothing to fret over. “ _You know,_ ” he began, already regretting the frantic process that led to the next set of words. He’d adjust. Eventually. “If we were holding hands. Tenderly. Fingers threaded. I _think_ that might just do the trick here.” 

It wouldn’t, but hey. A shot in the dark.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hm?” His tone was a bit distant, but his quirk of a smile returned regardless. “No, Bill, I have not always known to do this. I learned...and practiced. However, I am also much, much vastly older, I have been here at the turn of your galaxy...and certainly separate in nature from you. My nature is the vast spread of the universe, the very webs of its chaotic shifts of being, it...certainly isn’t quite so _human_.” He opened his eyes then, even the colored mismatched ones floating over him blinking open wearily. His gaze studied Bill for a firm moment, before he seemed to finally ascent and allowed the other his outstretched hand. “Perhaps.” He agreed finally, voice wary but somewhat thoughtful, “Perhaps that may help, yes. To connect in some fashion, if nothing else.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He wanted to say, in one swift moment, that perhaps there was _some_ humanity within Ford. That they were similar in nature somewhat. It all came crashing down that they never actually discussed this, and the sudden show of knowledge could be.. interpreted poorly. He didn’t know, but preferred the topic being brought to light naturally rather then a quick slip. 

For that, he nodded, smiling as if nothing ever occurred in his mind. Bill cracked his eyes opened, just to take Ford’s hand into his own, his temperature suddenly much warmer and skin a little clammy then from a second ago. He looked content, at the very least. For all the explicit things that’s left his mouth in front of crowds and Dipper, he sure did have an unexpected reaction when it came down to a little handholding. He sighed, deeply, allowing his shoulders to go slack.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford seemed content, if not at least somewhat, in Bill’s relaxing, approving of it in the manner in which he held himself. And he too returned to his state of meditation, the connection there still calling back to their deal, to their bond, still the touch connecting them perhaps much more firmly than any other would be capable of feeling. Ford himself felt it there, the coalescence of energy, that powerful thread, but said nothing to it. Simply breathing and allowing the world to pass on by, to connect to his realm without physically being there.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

There’s an unexplainable emotion he experienced from it, thankfully deciding not to bother voicing his opinion. There’s progress. Barely. The unrelenting thoughts swarming constantly, him figuring _focusing_ on relaxing instead of simply allowing it naturally to fall forth was the issue. Was he trying too hard? There’s nonsensical memories, such as him accidentally dropping his cracker in the tub and watching it get soggy. That one time he accidentally killed a baby bird when younger, or the reemergence of him writhing in pain from the injury scene given by the witch. 

After a five minute session of silence, only to be filled with the sounds of fire crackling and rain, there’s soon a frustrated groan.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford stirred only slightly, opening his eyes to glance at Bill. “It is...okay if it takes time, Bill. Practicing will perhaps be the only manner in which you succeed. And time.” But he considered for a moment, mulling over his thoughts before speaking again. “Of course, if you cannot obtain this particular method...there are others into entering the realm beyond just sleep. And other methods to gaining energy as well as power obviously. Though eventually, I may be able to teach you how to use my energy, my being that is combined inside your own to enter my realm in the same manner I do, physically.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Let’s try those then, because this is...” him being impatient, is the short answer of it all. When his eyes opened, his eyebrows were lowered, gaze fixated on the floor. Mission failed. “I uh. I’m not saying I _can’t_ do this. I just gotta— yeah, you know. Take time to get there.” And he couldn’t sit still this long to save his life, was another thing.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford considered him, but eventually he relented. Practices like these were...challenging, to put it lightly. And it seemed to him rather obvious now that they went against the mortal’s general nature. “...Alright. In that case, I will expect you to practice on your own.” And he got to his feet then, pulling away from Bill’s hand. The listless flashes of shadow and wrapping, moving clothing of his flesh continued to writhe but in a slow manner, some of it straining outwards as if to stretch slightly from the stiffness and stillness. And idly, his gaze met back to the book. “Hm. Perhaps this will be easier for you. If you would place your hand or some portion of yourself on the symbol of the book.” He gestured towards it. “And if you would, tell me if you feel anything. Any pull or...energy, anything at all.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You’re not disappointed in me, are you? I feel like I’m detecting some disappointment, and that’s the worst of it all.” Bill got to his feet, stretching as well except in a far more... well, normal manner. He sauntered over towards the book, observing it for a second. Without needing much elaboration, he followed through easily, palm flattening against the page as he maintained eye contact. “Oh man,” he forced out, almost sounding exhausted. “If I didn’t trust you, this would be the sketchiest thing ever right now.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“It often takes man many lifetimes to even scratch at this concept, Bill. No, however I do expect you to continue its practice this concept in private.” He stood over the book, surveying Bill as he leaned down to touch it. And while he didn’t really seem to understand the specifics Bill was getting at, had to assume it again had to do with this...idea of flirting that the other continued to play with. “Alright. If you...concentrate, I think you’ll feel something. Like a pull, do you understand? Perhaps it would help to focus on my energy, if you can. Or even perhaps the idea of me, it should help to draw it out somewhat from you. Focus on...wanting to leave this realm. And to enter the one we share.” He instructed, standing over the other, “Do not be alarmed if you should feel the space open up to you, Cipher. Simply focus on moving into it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

There’s an amused huff of air in response. Bill was in search for a different answer, it seemed, but for the moment kept his thoughts to himself as he focused on the task at hand. It’s just... concentrating. He could do that, imagining the realm, him and Ford seated across from one another reading, sharing tea and simply enjoying the more relaxed atmosphere as they spoke amongst themselves. He would drift away from the conversation, perhaps focus on the little details, such as the eyes above his head, which or which way there were searching, or the odd nature of tendrils moving freely.

And then it occurred. A very _jarring_ thing, enough to almost catch him fully off guard. The tug. Or something similar to it, like it’s stripping him, pulling him inside, and Bill almost jerked his hand away if it weren’t for the initial warning given beforehand.(edited)

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford’s expression changed, a look of mildly seeming impressed. He hadn’t particularly expected much of anything, but that was...interesting. Very interesting. The immediacy of Bill’s ability in this particular area was impressive. He found himself curious that Bill was so capable and readily able to pull out that part of himself that intertwined so deeply with the mortal being. It was something worth noting, worth examining. “Excellent. Now, dive into this space, Cipher, allow your will to bring you there.” It was worth an interest to Ford, the fact that Cipher, this human, this strange being seemed inclined towards using this aspect between them. Many if not most humans were most akin to subconscious reject, to despair and to repel the source of this connection even while they tried to use it. Most struggled, fought and slaved with it on a daily basis until they could no longer fight. Very few entered his realm in such a way and even more used the meditation techniques he’d gathered throughout the many eons to even ground themselves _away_ from such things, from himself, from such an intermingling of energies. It was too much for most and it caught him mildly intrigued that Cipher seemed capable of grasping it with such ease. Perhaps in the human’s own way, he was insane. Incapable of basic meditation techniques but...well, he could work with this.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Easier said than done. Bill just _almost_ reeled back, not scared but alarmed at the oddity consuming him whole. He allowed it at Ford’s reassuring words, eyes squeezed shut as his physical state is transferred into their own realm. He couldn’t lie- it’s disorienting as hell, and may take months to become accustomed to. It’s, well, something he would describe as a janky rollercoaster, or some extreme suction that makes it feel like his soul up and ditched his body. His arrival back into dreamscape left him stumbling, blinking repeatedly in a desperate attempt at adjusting his vision and focus.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill would find the space as it typically was - all marble floors and dim lighting, this time the fire lapping in shades of greens and blues, a cool edge pooling from it instead of any earthly warmth. The sofa chairs were still set up as before, and there remained a table at the center, at which a book had been left at its top. 

It wouldn’t be too long before Ford materialized there beside him in a washing darkness, emerging from them as naturally as if he’d been there all along, his form breeding out from those familiar pooling shadows. A wry smile was on his lips and he chuckled. “Very, very good Cipher. I’m somewhat impressed.” He mused, stepping out onto the marble floor. “How do you feel? I suppose it’s different than the dreamscape, yes? More...tangible.” Because this was Bill’s physical form, he wouldn’t lose any sense of touch, any muscle mass or anything else gained here. In fact, he would receive much, much more from the training in general. However, the down side being...well. He’d receive anything he gained here at all...injuries and even lack of sleep included.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Argh,” was the intelligent response, his body still accommodating the sudden change and shift in reality. Bill gently touched his forehead, stumbling slightly, eyes squinted in the direction of Ford’s voice. The blob of wriggling darkness was a dead giveaway even without clearer vision, but soon he caught on, managing to straighten and collect himself. Not without a few more groans, of course. “It’s... more grounded,” he explained, voice airy. “Usually dreamscape feels like I’m floating but on the ground at the same time? That probably doesn’t make much sense.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Good. Excellent. And you’re...alright, then? Any lingering effects?” Ford did seem rather pleased with the situation and he circled Bill slightly, as if looking for any immediate or obvious issue. “I must say, Cipher, this was an impressive first attempt. Not many manage to achieve nearly this much on the first try.” He said with a still rather strong note of approval.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Peachy. Little.. just.. you know. I’m fine.” Bill’s grin broke through, slipping past the overall strange emotions overtaking him. It would soon fade, at least that’s what he could hope for. He glanced around, then landed his eyes on Ford. “Oh _really_? I’d say I deserve a reward.” There’s implications underneath, ones he didn’t expect Ford to decipher easily. If at all. Maybe one of these days. “That’s the Cipher way, Ford! If you can’t take one path, then forge your own!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Rather despite himself, Ford chuckled lightly. “Oh? You do seem to often take advantage of these ideas, Bill.” But the grin held strong. The mortal was something else, that was certain. “I’ll relent _this time,_ I suppose. It is true you did manage quite a feat in achieving this so readily. It seems you do not seem quite suited towards meditation at this time, but this too will do just fine.” He straightened, seeming satisfied that Bill hadn’t somehow managed to maim himself or botch anything too significantly, nodding his head to the other. “What did you have in mind?” Clearly, still, Ford did not entirely decipher the obvious intent there.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh, I-“ Was joking. He was joking about the reward, then again, should probably come to realize how Ford took things a little more seriously, and perhaps he should be more clear in his efforts of sexual remarks. Nevertheless, this presented itself as an opportunity for him. “...Later,” Bill hummed, pulling his thoughts into one coherent request. “I’d like for you to have dinner with me.” 

Again, simple. Anyone else probably would’ve requested something different. In fact, he was rather curious if any humans Ford encountered had used their “reward(if they even bothered asking)” to share a meal together. Possibly. This was only an experiment of sorts, a little yet meaningful introduction into the more mundane things he wished to try with Ford. First step would be figuring out his appetite.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He tilted his head, and a brief lapse of confusion seemed to touch his features. Or more like, a kind of disconnect as he tried to work out the other’s request. “A...meal? Such as I assume, a human meal?” He inquired. Even though these requests all seemed rather bizarre and somewhat off from anything the other humans he’d partnered with would request, he couldn’t lie that in itself, that made them interesting. Because, in a lot of ways, they constantly surprised him or took him off guard. Most requests tended to be more...predictable. Grandiose. Always wanting something, answers or training or abilities. Philosophies. Even riches. It was something to be said that the human continued to throw the ball outside of the realm of expectation when it came to mortals, especially in this same common streak.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s requests had strayed from the more greed type of needs, not that they were ever particularly strong in the first place. His vision lies within obtaining power, as money itself wasn’t an issue. Still, the recent review of his future had quelled initial worries to an alarmingly comfortable degree in spite of the potential horrors. He could ask for powers, sure, or maybe spend the entirety of the night practicing with Ford to quickly reach his goal, but there’s almost a more.. lazy approach, if not quite. “Yeah,” he replied with a smile. “Human meal. Me and you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford considered, but it was a brief thing. In the moment he seemed to contemplate on the idea, before nodding. “...Alright. I suppose such a thing couldn’t do much harm. Albeit, it is...an odd request, William.” He informed the human.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m an odd guy, Ford. It’s what gives me flavor. Unless you want me to be generic? I could ask you for, let’s see,” he couldn’t really contain his laughter as he pretended to be in thought, tapping his forehead. “I want the ability to turn objects into solid gold! How’s that for you? Normal enough?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hm.” He commented lightly, starting off toward the fireplace with a grin. “That would actually be a little bit more...on track, I suppose.” Not that Ford minded. It made things very interesting, rather surprising whenever Bill seemed to make these kinds of requests, especially with the idea of a reward or exchange. “So, when is it you would prefer this...meal.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Usually between six and seven in the evening, which is pretty close now. I said later to make room for this session we got going on.” Plus the general preparation of the dinner would take a decent thirty minutes if not more to properly get down. Hopefully it wouldn’t taste horrible. “Gets lonely in this place! I feel like Scrooge from the Christmas movie, and I _hate_ that movie!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh? Tonight then?” He sounded amused. “Alright, Bill. Why not.” He glanced upward, around the space. “You have some practice now in coming here during your waking hours. And most obviously, you will, should you want it, be more than capable of appearing here when sleeping.” His gaze fell back to Bill, “You will also of course, naturally need to practice leaving and returning to your world. Be warned though Cipher, should anything happen to the book that you came through while you are here, you will need someone from the other side to summon you or you will be trapped. Also, unlike the self you create in sleep, any and all damage or otherwise done to you in this space will of course be permanent.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I can die in here now? That’s unbelievably terrifying, haha.” And interesting for all its worth. Bill took a few steps, observing, even hopping to ensure he wouldn’t pass and fade through the floors. It’s an odd experience. If it weren’t for potentially looking like an idiot, he would sprint around the room like a child overdosing on sugar. “Guess I need to actually avoid pissing you off now,” he commented. It’s lighthearted, mostly. “Even if you probably look way even _better_ all angry. It’s both a terrifying and attractive combination that I’m sure I couldn’t even explain to another human being. My insanity grows stronger each day!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford idly surveyed Bill as he ranted, only giving a slight, “Hm.” in response and nodding to the general area, “Yes, you can die in this place. However, you also can learn to manipulate this reality and anything you do here, you take with you. As I’m sure you’re aware since we bonded, our essence, our souls are tied together inextricably, Bill. It has changed your very nature and...in a very small respect, mine as well. That being said, it is because of this that you can enter this space at all. These halls are open to you due to this bond, as is the ability to alter things here. In time I will show you the extent of that power.” He assured the other.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Hearing Ford go on about soul ties had to be the pinnacle of romance. Despite his dreaming, Bill was paying attention, nodding away and relishing this newfound discoveries listing before him. “Alter,” he echoed, curiosity piquing his full interest. Bill’s grin stretched. “You mean... change everything? Make my own fantasy? Like a dream within a dream that’s also a little side pocket reality?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford frowned. “Well, yes, I suppose. You can certainly manipulate any items in this space and even, if you can learn to forge them, create whatever you please...to an extent. There is still the difference between factual objects and nonreality. For instance,” He swept his arm and a series of items appeared before them, floating against the air. One was a bottle of some unknown substance, blue, glowing sand it looked like, another a scroll of some sort, and the last a weapon. “Only these two are from the physical plane.” He reached out and grabbed the bottle of sand before striding over to Bill and handing it to him, “Therefore, if one wished to, they could take it into the physical world. However...that one.” He took the intricate spear, passing it too to Bill. Both felt identical, looked just as real, at the touch. “This I created in this space. As such, it can never leave these walls.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Ah.” He looked at both objects in his hands, momentarily allowed the cogs to turn. This would do. Perhaps it stripped away the inane ideas he conjured a few seconds before the explanation hit, but there’s still potential within this space to properly give entry to the truer and more wild depths of Bill Cipher’s mind. “What’s with the face?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yes. And if you wish, you can...alter other dimensions of these walls, however it takes time to master this art.” And Ford looked down at the human, surveying him. “The….face?” He asked idly, sounding somewhat curious, albeit not following the question.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“And when do we begin this process? I don’t even know how to form the concept of.. _bending_ things, so to speak.” Bill blinked right after, providing a reassuring smile. A small one. “Uh.. never mind. Don’t worry about it. I’m more interested in turning this,” he raised the spear, “into a candy cane.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford eyed the human somewhat carefully. “Hm. I see.” His voice was a bit more calculated, but he waved a hand regardless, and the two physical, real items vanished, leaving just the spear. “Understand this: it will take both focus, and touching into that same energy and force you used to transport into this realm. In essence, utilizing my energy and force, Bill, that have intertwined with you.” There was some interest to be caught here from Ford. He found himself somewhat intrigued if this mortal could once again dig deep into that portion of their bond and utilize it much like before. Most tended to shy away from such a space. “Simply will it to change with those aspects in mind and it will.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Alright alright, I got this.” And he did, indeed, ‘had this’ as he squeezed his eyes tight, the expression he wore not too flattering as the usual ones given, instead appearing that he’s swallowed something sour. This was apparently him giving it his all, his other hand held up, fingers spread and directed towards the spear. If anything, he was closer to saying “bippity bop” as if it would help him in his efforts. Spouting fake spells from children’s cartoons. Though, there’s barely a ripple, as if the spear was midway into changing into some mess of red and whites until Bill stopped too early, snapping his eyes open, unaware of his own progress and only to be met with the unbothered item. “Hm. I think I’ve strained my neck muscles doing that.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford surveyed the item as it briefly shifted, feeling that same, certain stirring of intrigue come into him. Unusually quick, same as with the transport to the realm. It heightened his awareness on the other, the listless threads of him shifting curiously, the eyes over his head becoming a bit more alert. “...Hm. Interesting.” He said aloud, not betraying anything in his voice, even that slight curiosity. “But relax, Bill. It is not a war. It is more…” He played with the words, “...Intuition perhaps. If you could, imagine whatever it was you did before to reach this plane, find that same force of will or space in yourself. However you did that, it should...feel similar, at the very least." He nodded for the human to try again, voice instructing, commanding as ever.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“All I did was imagine you,” he answered simply, and perhaps anyone else would find the mention to be sweet if it weren’t for, y’know, the literal reasoning behind it of entering a demon’s realm just to turn a spear into candy. Nevertheless he followed through, this time settling with simply staring at the weapon, concentrating, lips thinned and eyebrows dipped. The process happened a bit easier this time around, maybe some talent after all in that horrific mind of his. The spear rippled, bending, stretching and twisting into... well, something close to a candy cane. It’s close enough, the end curved and midpoint thickened, stripes of red wrapping around the figure. Edible, is what Bill would describe it as.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford watched the other carefully, a very slight note of approval on his face as Bill managed to transform the object. He smiled only just, but nodded his head. “Very good.” He said lightly, waving his hand once more as it transformed back into the spear. “Once more, Bill. This time, try not to force it.” He wouldn’t push too hard. Perhaps giving this lesson as just a small window into this opportunity. While impressed, he couldn’t imagine dipping into his own darker nature would help the other’s stability, especially if he kept pushing. “Be mindful, Bill. This item is just the start of what you can accomplish in these halls.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“If it’ll get us in bed quicker, sure.” For once, that was a comment not meant to leave his mouth, only fleeting from how preoccupied his own head was. Bill tried again, relaxing, glancing at the spear rather casually with an easier experience this time around. The spear molded, but not into a candy cane. In fact, the result genuinely surprised Bill. Only a miniature version of Ford, except a statue, not alive, being held in the hand of a man with saucers for eyes and a flattened mouth. That’s not what he meant. Still it’s... progress?

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford was, as by now, getting a bit more accustomed to Bill’s slips of the tongue in regards to himself. Perhaps it was a distraction, a mechanism to pull himself from fear or into the moment. He wasn’t entirely certain, but allowed it to slip by this time. There were times of course that the mortal came close to pushing it. Testing certain waters of disrespect. Losing sight of the reality of their arrangement and more importantly, who he was inside of it all. This came close to being one of them and his eyes narrowed just slightly at the tone the other used, but he didn’t press it. His gaze instead continued to study the spear and he found he became distracted by the thoughts entirely as it...molded and changed. 

Ford frowned curiously, bringing an arm out where threads of dark fingers stretched and moved through the air, curling around the figure to bring it back and examine it closer. “...That is...very impressive.” His voice was distracted and steady as he held it closer, examining the details. That was...really quite the leap from something of similar structure and shape. He glanced up, curious at how Bill’s state of mind was for such a change. “Very impressive, Bill.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill looked like he seen a ghost. The figure itself _was_ detailed, to the textures of Ford’s tendrils and hands, each individual eye above the head, a smirk on its face as its darkened arms hung by its side. It was more of a confession of truly how much he _stared_ at Ford, took in his image, and more or less the practice that went into sketching the demon to his liking. It wasn’t embarrassment. Not at all. Bill was certain somewhere down the line Ford received gifts of gratitude of this nature, but the sudden transition from a spear to failed candy cane and now... this. Was a little jarring. “Oh. Thank you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford tilted the figurine, soaking in the details, taking in the exact replicas of his own person, examining it carefully. His eyes slowly moved to meet Bill’s expression, the whiteness in his skin, frowning. Perhaps too much. Perhaps this was enough for now. Albeit it, it was still...more than impressive. It would seem they’d found one angle, one merit of talent and ability that Bill had in spades. Utilizing the connection between them and manipulating the world. He would have to continue to test this theory. “In time, you could become very proficient at this, Cipher. I mean to say, very much so. Not many can wield the connection forged between me quite this well.” His hand snaked out again and allowed the figurine to float there before the other. “But...I do believe perhaps that it is enough. It is important you rest, allow this ability to build...and not press too hard. Particularly in your current form.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“...How many people were in love with you?” Bill asked, glancing over his work. There’s no expected excitement, if only something far different then what would usually grace the human’s face. “Ever think it’s that? You know,” he reached forward, just to touch the figure’s face— something, eventually, he would want to make a reality. “Could be that. Or worshipping. Can’t say I worship you, however. Which is good since you don’t seem.. welcoming to the idea, and neither am I exactly interested in kissing someone’s feet.” This was a conversation leaking from his head. Again, without meaning to. Maybe this did wear him out to an extent, especially from how Bill’s gaze wasn’t exactly _there._ It was aimless, maneuvering back on the figure, Ford, his own hands and surroundings, then back to his creation once more.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

At first his eyes darkened slightly at the question, perhaps at its tone or the continuing of the conversation that he had had with the other before, but as Bill continued the expression faded, actually softening again and leaving behind a somewhat more calculating, uncertain look. “...Love?” He asked then after a good moment, a stretch of time as the other examined the figure closely, pouring over his memories. “...None.” Was the answer. And it was true. “Worshipped, sought to capture, trifle with or...otherwise sway me in whatever barbaric or significant means can be imagined? Countless. And...at least a few who have caught my attention enough to warrant relationships such as you and I now share. However...love?” He studied the other, “No. This is….new.” And he left it at that note for a moment as he continued to survey Bill, a frown pulled back to him as he made out the weariness, the tiredness observed there. “I would...however prefer we didn’t push you, Cipher. You’ve already done plenty this night. Perhaps we can focus on teaching you to return to your home dimension and leave it at that.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill almost choked on his spit. “ _None_?! ZERO? NADA? Soy el única pobre bastardo?” That was.. alright. Alright. Okay. His mind was at a total loss there, perhaps the disorientating feeling of mindscape not mixing well with this information. “Ford, this is— I’m—“ 

In need of a decent meal and rest. Bill blinked repeatedly, hands slipping into the mess of blonde on his head, gripping. “Do you know what this _means_? The significance of this? Out of everyone I’m the only crazy fucker who _fell_ for you! That means I’m actually crazy!” This wasn’t news. Of course he was crazy, but this was.. icing on the cake, quite honestly.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

At that Ford laughed. Actually something filled with some warmth to it, a real grin taking onto his face. “Yes...I suppose so. But perhaps that’s what I find so interesting about you, Bill.” He commented, again more on a lighter nature, chuckling darkly. “Listen. I think it best you get some rest after these lessons, they are quite a lot to take in at the start and I imagine the transition and pushing this ability must be draining. Why don’t we reserve this conversation and that...human meal for another night, hm?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s hands fell at the laughter, gaze searching up. The sound was.. nice. _So nice._ His mind? Not so much in the right spot, so in turn, the suggestion of leaving would be for the better, especially as he smiled. A soft, warm type of thing that practically threatened to spill much more outlandish statements than regular. It was a small detail, one he hadn’t noticed or even realized, but the figuring of Ford had changed its expression as well. Much more happier by now. “Alright,” he managed. “Show me the way outta here. I’ll catch some Z’s and call you up tomorrow like a drunken ex trying to mend a relationship.” Oddly specific.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“That sounds decent enough, Bill.” He mused, still grinning, his tone remaining a bit light despite himself. And he waved his hand, an image coalescing as if from the shadows of the book used for summonings in the other’s house. “It is quite simple. In much the same way you imagined me and my presence and this space, you must focus instead on this book and...perhaps, if it helps, your home. While I cannot particularly enter your realm without being summoned, you should have very little problem leaving. It is your home, your realm entirely, after all.” It had been his once too, though...things changed. Natures grew rapidly separate, shifting, evolving and parting from old, lost and forgotten ideas. He gave another light grin to the other, expression still quite warm. “Get some rest, Bill. You did well today.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You keep up this praising and I just might ask you to marry me sooner than expected. Quit making this hard!” Bill closed his eyes, still smiling quite widely as he tried focusing in on his home. It paled in comparison to Ford’s realm, but was far more familiar and comforting. It takes a few seconds, but soon the returning feeling of suction reappears before he’s removed entirely, stumbling his way through his den before his back hit the wall in a clumsy meeting. It was still pouring outside, a crack of lightening briefly flashing through his window and casting shadows.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford, however, remained in his dimension. And the book remained there, open and still in the wake of the storm. Yet Ford meanwhile mused again at the figurine, a tip of his weaving shadow like threads prodding out towards it in a slight of appreciation. To manipulate to such details and so quickly was something indeed. He chuckled, taking the figurine in hand and with a wave of his other it appeared on a bookshelf near the fireplace with an array of other collections and oddities he’d gathered over the course of many millennia. With that, the demon turned to the space, bringing up his hand as a book dislodged itself from a shelf, speeding his way with just a notion of it. He would have to keep an eye on Cipher. But he could see already that it had been a worthwhile investment that he’d made.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford’s next summoning would take place within a dining area, a pleasant smell accommodating the ambient lit room that was hazardously decorated in candles, a shimmering chandelier dangling above. A decent variety presented itself on the table, one being pot roast(that he may or may not have stolen the idea of), salads, corn, pie, and bread rolls glistening with an unusual addition of butter. A sweeter fragrance laced itself across the floor. Which, upon a further inspection, would reveal rose petals decorating beneath the table and chairs. Bill himself was dressed formally, per usual, though his hair lacked the regular maintenance he would apply as he stood by the chair meant for Ford, unsure what utensils to give. If the demon even _used_ them in the first place. 

After learning that he’s literally the only nutcase that attempted at pursuing Ford romantically, it had changed a few things. Firstly, Bill would _genuinely_ be the first man to introduce these concepts: this would begin as a tier list, he decided. In his side notebook, he marked this progression as “How To Fuck A Demon: For Dummies.” There would list these attempts. A careful description, theories, plans, predicated outcomes. It was almost as detailed as his general researches. For now, the introductory phase would begin with simply adjusting Ford to the level one bases of human interactions: dinners, hand holding, hugs, maybe even a high-five or two if he’s lucky.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

As soon as Bill would call Ford out he emerged from the book in a swirl of blacks and towering shadows, a mass of writhing threads and a flash of many differently colored eyes. His form coalesced there and in a moment of silence he took in the human and, in small part, the scenery displayed around them. “Bill.” He acknowledged curtly, frowning somewhat curiously at the seemingly luxurious state of the space that he was...typically used to being more barren. “Good evening.” He stated simply, “I suppose this marks the uh...the “meal,” then?” His voice held a certain interest to it as his many different eyes shifted lazily, idly, taking in the whole of the scene. 

He didn’t particularly...have an understanding to it. He’d witnessed feasts of glory and savage betrayal, as well as had people offer food up to him in some strange ritualistic manner...but this was certainly the first time he’d been invited into such a setting. It was new and bizarre and very unsuited for such a dark, chaotic being as him....and too, in his perspective, somewhat interesting as well as, he had to admit, almost amusing. “You’ll forgive me Bill, I am not quite certain I have the… “etiquette” any longer for these occasions.” Once in a far reach, lost moment of time, as a child, he was certain he would’ve known what to do in such situations. But that was long past, practically lost to him.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Evening, love of mine.” Bill studied Ford for a second, just to catch his reaction. Fortunately for his self-esteem, he didn’t jump into this expecting the usual reactions humans gave. Never once did he place this much effort into a person, but there were times where he received a hug, kiss, or compliment in turn for the little sceneries. Bill’s eyebrows raised right after, a small laugh slipping past him. “No worries! Just be your good ole demonic self. That’s where your charm comes from.” 

He gestured towards the fork, knife, and spoon splayed beside an empty plate. “Do you know how to use these? Just to go ahead and get this little tutorial out the way.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I am not your love, Cipher.” Ford said curtly, albeit his tone wasn’t dangerous or offended, more just frank, as if stating some kind of factual reality straight out of a book or as if a teacher in a lecture. Completely devoid of insult or emotion. A reality. Still, his gaze shifted toward the cutlery and he found a slightly amused grin, just a gentle tug of a thing. “Ah...yes. I...do think I will manage just fine, actually.” He assured the other before considering the table and decidedly shifting into what he assumed to be his seat. He had no particular emotions on the scenery save for a kind of intrigue, honestly. “I can’t say I’m not...still impressed that this is the reward you chose, Bill. I can’t imagine it will reach any height of your expectation.” There was still a slight touch of something more warm, and something almost close to an apology there. As if Bill had certainly wasted all opportunity for something more grand in this endeavor.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill took no offense regardless, taking his seat right after the confirmation. He was in a good mood, somewhat tipsy, but that _little_ detail didn’t matter. He wasn’t drunk, which was important. “There’s no expectations set in place,” Bill added, smiling. He propped his arms on the table, already breaking the few manners his family set in place back at home. “Just a meal between two friends. Lifetime partners. Casual. I enjoy spending time with you, during our lessons and outside of them.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Do you.” Ford mused, but his voice held a slightly dubious note to it, even with his slight smile. “And then, if I might ask, does a night such as this involve? A meal, I suppose.” He nodded to the assortment before them. “I will admit that it has been...far too long since I’ve taken to trying food from the mortal plane.” Frankly, the most he did tended to be solely in the focus of obtaining knowledge, peering into the vast of the multiverse for information, for hidden secrets, picking out into history and answering summons or calls that may strike his interest. Pleasantries such as this were...rare to put it mildly. Not impossible, Stanford was known to, in the vast cataclysm of things, seek out company. However breaks from his efforts, his pursuit were indeed near to unheard of when put into the perspective of the time spent in his studies. Another odd thing surely that Bill had seemingly pulled him towards.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh, _you have no idea._ ” Bill made a gesture towards the food, mostly at the pot roast that sat in the middle of the sides. Later, surely he would pat himself on the back for such a wonderful display of skill. Totally didn’t pull up multiple tutorials on YouTube and panic frantically, accidentally cutting his finger in the process of it all. “We eat and talk. That’s the gist of it. Could be about anything, really. Your funniest stories, best experiences, or you can sit back and let me flirt with you. The options are endless.” Bill would be doing that regardless. “Hopefully you like this then! Not sure if it can compete with what you mentioned before, but as long as you aren’t vomiting then that’s a win in my book.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He chuckled, “Yes, well, I’m sure it’s perfectly suitable, Cipher.” And on that note, a few of the tendrils snaked around the fork and knife, however he paused, eyeing the food with some uncertainty then. “Though I am rather afraid you may have to be my teacher tonight. On...these more specific ideas, perhaps.” He looked off to the food, apparently not quite certain on the etiquette of how to proceed with things. It wasn’t as if he didn’t _know_ how humans ate, in some terms at least. But the centuries blurred in together and it wasn’t quite a pertinent piece of information, things like “table manners.” It seemed somehow important to at least try and understand them, proper in a way that felt suited to him.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

There’s some unexpected fondness overtaking Bill, solely from the chance of witnessing Ford in a more... mundane setting. One outside the abnormalities and him having a head inside a book, and it could only give him a short window of fantasizing the future to come. Bill got to his feet, briefly retrieving Ford’s plate as he worked a few chunks of roast, potatoes, and carrots onto it with practiced ease, a smile trailing behind every movement. Next was the salad, a bun or two on the side, ensuring the foods weren’t smothering each other. “Teacher? Why, I’d love to. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that before, just underneath settings far more _steamier,_ ” he raised the plate, bringing attention to the literal steam wafting off the food. “Ha. Get it?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He didn’t. But he smiled lightly just the same, still in the same manner of slight amusement. “I am...sure, Cipher.” Though the wry words weren’t quite true as to what the other meant, or what it entailed, he clearly was not following the idea. Still, he allowed Bill to set everything up, observing carefully the specifics of the movement. Only when Bill set the plate down did he consider the food. Most of what he knew of cooking came from spells, potions, or herbal and medicinal ideas. Prominent things. Certainly nothing such as a typical human meal. “Alright, then. I suppose if you are to be my teacher…” He mused a second, “We devolve into conversation, yes?” Perhaps a bit different than the last time they’d sat and “enjoyed” a conversation. The moment then calling far more towards an interview than anything else.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yes! How was your day?” Off to a very generic start, but wasn’t this how all dates went on their first time? Not that this was _classified_ as a date. It only would be once he asked Ford’s permission, that being a key factor after he probably had to give an explanation on exactly what a date _is_ to begin with. After Ford’s plate, he fixed his own, settling back into his seat. “ _Or_ we can get to know each other, like the interview from last time. Except without the stabbings preferably.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hm, well, since you are the leading guide to this…“meal,” I would expect that as your student, it would be rude for me not to oblige in that request.” He nodded to Bill, “I do not conceive days in the same manner you do Bill, in fact the realm I exist in does not follow the same principles or spans of time. When I siphon the energies of the cosmos that too is not measured by any movement or planets or suns…” He paused for a moment, “...but I digress. I suppose my time since we last met was...inciteful.” And with that finished he cut into the food, a curious look against his normally expressionless face as the knife slid through it. Unfortunately it slid a bit too hard and cracked the plate entirely with a snap.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill was about to respond until the alarming sound of glass snapping, and, embarrassingly so, had flinched like he was bracing for an attack, skin paling for the briefest second. At least until he saw what had happened, lips parted in awe. “Oh.” There’s no anger present, only amusement. Bill’s over and back into the kitchen in no time, returning with a fully clean and unbroken saucer, setting it to the side. “Gotta be a little more gentle,” he spoke softly, almost like he was directing the words to a child rather than a demonic being. “How about I cut it for you? Lemme just.. clean this up right quick. Hope that never happens to my spine, uh.” What did he even say to this? This was the _one_ thing he should’ve prepared for. There’s already some juices from the meat on the table, staining the cloth.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Bill.” His tone was a bit more terse, a bit more hard, the depth a bit more strict than that of the kind he may have used when teaching the other, “I am far from a child or a helpless being. Please be careful in remembering this during our times together.” There was a polite kind of terseness there, something...not threatening, but almost an edge of danger there, just a slight reminder that he was in fact an ancient, endless being of power, something starker, more deeper of the shadows that lingered at his features. A bit more chaotic and fretful. Perhaps Bill had jumped earlier for good reason, though on the other hand Ford didn’t sound precisely _angry_...more just something leaning towards a warning. “You may be my guide tonight, but please, consider that that is what you are.” He lifted the silverware just the same in the tendrils, away from the table. As a guest, all he could do was allow Bill room. “That said, I of course will be more...careful about how I proceed.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Never once thought of you that way, Ford. Forgive me if I gave that impression.” The tone was definitely brought to his attention, though, now, he had thought against aiding Ford with the slicing. Instead he set a new batch of food onto the newer plate, taking the older one and discarding it inside the nearby trash bin with a content hum. “The meat doesn’t require much pressure,” he made the more of adding, making his way back the seat. Bill’s heart was sorta in his throat. In a way, he felt like he messed up somewhere. “It’s pretty easy to both bite and cut into.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford gave a slight nod in acknowledgement and in some thanks to the other. The demon clearly still trying on polite, given the circumstances. Regardless of the slight warning he’d given, more the nip from a wolf that one may stride too close too, he was still a guest, after all. And in the culture of his family, when accepting an invitation, and not one of a formal space, a guest was to be humble in a certain level of it. And between demons, a certain respect was demanded. Even if, as demons did, a certain level of treachery sometimes lay beneath the surface. Ford was still learned in these old ways, still drew back to them, even as he considered most of his kind beneath him. “Thank you.” He responded curtly as Bill offered another plate and the next time he cut he made to be extra cautious, knife even hesitating at the edge. As soon as it cut through, he was careful to lift it once more, leaving it a success. “My apologies if the interruption has...disrupted these lessons, William.” He continued, looking up from the food. “If you believe it suitable, I of course have no issue with an… “interview” style of things. However, I believe that is for you to say. Otherwise...hm. I would gladly give this “small talk” another opportunity.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Don’t worry about it. I got like twenty more of those suckers in the cabinet. It’s about time for a little more chaos in this house of muted colors.” Still brought the question of why Bill stuck with such an aesthetic for so long. He no longer lived with his family, yet some habits forever stuck until the end of time. He couldn’t shake it, but for the moment, he could distract himself as he nibbled on hot bread. “Well, I’m just _calling_ it an interview. It’ll be a back-and-forth between us. I’d say it’s necessary, y’know? Since we’re being together until I probably die of, I don’t know, some incurable disease.” He took another bite, content with how soft the roll was. “I am pretty curious about you in other ways. For example, can you experience attraction? At all? Are those things wiggling out your chest sensitive? Things like that.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford gently attempted to bring some of the cut meat onto his fork, seeming rather preoccupied with the task. He wasn’t quite getting it, however it didn’t appear to be bothering him either as he continued with the attempts. “...Very well. That sounds reasonable.” He agreed with a curt nod. And at that, the question itself, he paused to take it over in his mind, to consider it fully, resting his silverware down as he did. “...Attraction. Hm. That is a...rather difficult question and subject to properly explain. I....suppose it is a bit...more challenging too to delve into in my case as well.” He didn’t quite expand on the idea out loud, nor touch on his own dual nature, nor on the implications that he was part human, “With the idea of demons as a whole, I doubt it would translate well to your terms. However yes, I suppose there’s some manner in which you could comprehend it as “attraction”. I too can feel...attraction in a sense, not that I indulge in it. Those like us can also….copulate of course. With each other. And with other beings.” He returned to attempting to coax the meat onto his fork, seeming to find some satisfaction in it as he did. “However, in most cases if one is not a being of some similar nature and aspectual realities to ours, they would be killed almost at once in even the attempt...regardless of if it was wished for or not. My very nature, for this example, would most likely and of its own accord in the deeper midst of such activities destroy you in the instinctual passion and more automatic impulse. Or at least, I should say that is true for the most part.” He paused, and his expression wavered, growing more distant. “Frankly, I have only ever once witnessed such a thing in a fully, entirely successful manner...It is certainly far from typical.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

If Bill possessed the strength to snap his plate in two with a knife, he, too, would have done so at the mention of Ford’s admitting to the possibilities present. If not at attraction, then because the “How To Fuck A Demon” notebook, instead of being solely a joke of a title, could become a reality in some sense. If not his, then another person’s. He thought back to the kiss he saw... was that attraction there? Genuine attraction? But Ford didn’t seem to know what he was doing, so perhaps the demon way of affection was entirely incomprehensible. “ _Instinctual passion,_ ” Bill repeated, his voice raising a tad higher along with his temperature. The deep, rather dark laughter spilling from his mouth as he toyed with a potato was almost.. telling that he didn’t really value his life in such an instant. “So what you’re saying is that it’s possible? Oho. Oh Ohoho. Wooo. Hahaha. _Oh._ Oh my Lucifer, do you ever just— just have a spike in adrenaline? Out of nowhere?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford couldn’t help the slight amused grin that came on his face then. “Yes. It is possible. And in fact, the being who copulated with a rather...powerful demon was too a human. Somehow, in ways even I have never been able to grasp, she survived. And thrived. And...frankly their connection remained, to as long as I witnessed it, at least.” He shrugged however, looking off, clearly lost in thought. Lost to days that he had long put behind him. “Hm, yes. An abnormality. An incredibly impossible idea. I have never seen such a thing in all my time since.” He toyed with the food before finally lifting it to take a bite, the slight reflection of sharper, more carnivorous canines present against his mouth as he did. 

The taste was surprising, and he mulled on that too, considering it. He had no need to indulge in food typically, particularly not something as mundane as the mortal realm, however the unusualness of it, the rarity of it, even the flavor sparked a certain interest. He grinned. “Interesting.” He commented then, lightly. In a way it even brought him back to the same days he was pulling against now. A strange sensation, that was for sure.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“That’s... very romantic.” Presumably, Ford was talking about his own mother. It should be obvious by then, he supposed, but his mind couldn’t help wonder at other possibilities. Bill’s face brightened at the clear praise over the meal, smiling so much his cheeks were becoming sore. “Here’s an idea: perhaps one day _you’ll_ find that person to be forever partnered with on such a level, and his name could be Bill Cipher!” Bold, but he was feeling rather good about everything.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He snorted a bit, even finding himself laughing out loud from it, clearly amused. “You are persistent, I will give to you that, Bill.” There was a bit of a flash in his eyes, even as he still grinned. “However, I would not put your weight behind those rash notions of yours. The chasm that lies between us is certainly too big for your comprehension. Perhaps even for mine. It has been...much too long since I myself indulged in such things and...well, I very much doubt you would survive them.” And then he considered, rolling back to Bill’s first words with a hum. “Romantic, hm? I suppose perhaps it was. I sincerely cannot explain otherwise how she managed to tame his nature as she did...And I must say, he was something of a revered demon in his own ways. Entirely stoic, Bill, rather crude, brutish, emotionless to the world, more than any being I have witnessed in the multiverse...” He laughed again, “Honestly, when he got mad…” And he shook his head, “However, it was something that he acted on that impulse. Being with a mortal is...well, looked down on to put it lightly.” He began to gently cut another piece, seeming reinvigorated by his interests in the dish as he did. "The whole situation was rather scandalous in that sense."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“...Then when I become a god, would you ever reconsider?” Bill had his fingers threaded together, chin rested on the knuckles as he carefully observed Ford. The salted taste of butter was almost heavenly, quite frankly, somehow amplifying the moment into something better. “Hm. Seems to me even demons have some ‘human’ in them, so to speak. If someone like that could get whipped by a woman, then maybe we’re all not so different. It’s interesting. There’s that desire that always manages to break even the most hardened men on this planet, but I guess you could say that nature was always within us to eventually search for a partner or someone to get down and dirty with.” His face tinted, if only a little at Ford’s laughter. “And now you’re saying there’s evidence of a demon being compatible with a human? You’re tugging heart strings here!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I will say this much, Cipher.” He said finally, “Even with those of my own kind I am not…” He hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Let us just say I am not one to...indulge in those sorts of things. My goals and desires lie in other, far more significant pursuits. But if you were to become a god, I will consider it.” He mused, grinning, perhaps even a challenging thing. After all, what was there to lose? Even the theoreticals were an impossibility of a stretch. Even with the ambition and his certainty he could work with it enough to break barriers, reach milestones with the other that he had never before reached. It was almost exciting in a way, even with the ridiculousness behind the challenge. He laughed then, if just only. “And I suppose I am! It is a rare occurrence, make no mistake, but I assure you no magic was used, no methods of restraint. I know this...I’ve seen them interact. It is simply a mystery, Bill, and for a being such as me the idea of a _mystery_ is…” He grinned still, looking out, resting a hand under one chin and lifting it in thought. “Enticing and unbearable in its own way. Yet still I have no explanation. Even we ourselves can’t tame our own chaotic, deeper natures, though particularly under such circumstances. Love....” He mused, chuckling, "Perhaps it is. How could I ever say?"

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m the _least_ patient man in the world, but you, sir, have given me a lifetime to wait for.” God it was. Being God was always the plan, this only adding another motivator to accomplish his goals. Though there’s a more.. warm feeling stirring around at being given somewhat of a lead. It’s more than he ever expected. “Enticing and unbearable! It’s funny you put it that way, considering it’s exactly how I feel when you aren’t getting my jokes when I flirt! It’s actually starting to kill me!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Again he laughed, “You, Bill, are….a very strange human being.” The comment was a bit light, and could maybe even be seen as a compliment. It was hard to tell, honestly, even in the way he grinned a bit on darker amusement. “I suppose all we can do is wait. And see if you reach your goals. However…” And he brought his wine glass up to the other, nodding his head, “At the very least I will say you have potential, Cipher. In ways I perhaps have not witnessed for many millennia. Do not let that blind you to the reality: you will need to overcome obstacles, spaces unimaginable, pain and concepts that defy all common law. Be aware, I do not make these deals lightly or for any mortal...rarely. Do not waste that.” Potential. There it was in the other, he could see it, sense it even now. It was...enticing, exciting even on some level, in a way that he hadn’t been met with for far, far too long. 

Boredom. It was strange that that had been one of the things that had driven both of them to this space, here and now. For since this had begun, he had not once fallen prey to such a state. Though he also suspected somehow the human would throw himself, thrust himself onto this pillar regardless of the consequence of reason should he have been given the chance. He had to wonder. And he had to appreciate the desire for power that still lingered there, stronger than everything else, even the musings of “romance,” the jokings perhaps that the human gave.

Ford didn’t for a moment think it was real love that resided there in the human. And that was just fine by him. It was certainly fine by him. A means to an end. And they both knew the true goal, the true motivation that stirred in the dark, beneath the surface. If he could mold, shift, alter the other, if he could guide him to a real space of absolute success, push and change him in such significant ways to overcome his mortality, if not at least rise above the rest of this sphere...it would be enough. That ambition is what set Ford into this arrangement and it would eventually bring Bill to that new world.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m very flattered you believe my rotten mind is rife with potential. Between you and me, if some almighty devil transcended from Hell and said, Cipher, I’ll give you everything for the price of your soul and eternal suffering, I’d take it!” Bill laughed, because honestly? It was true. The level of sacrifices he was willing to make was inhuman. “Frankly, what’s the point of striving for this power without suffering? The journey, the history to be made as you reached the goal.” He gesticulated wildly as he spoke, clearly passionate. If not absolutely bordering on being a full blown masochist. “Anyone could take a shortcut! Where’s the _fun_ in that? The thrill? I _want_ to be bashed upside my skull, nearly choked and tortured to death as I manage to _barely_ slip away just in time. Then kill my opposers from within, basking in that glory of _unhinged survival tactics._ To see this world crumble and burn under my whim, at the slightest wink or shift of my body-“ 

Bill was blabbering, a tangent accompanied by the crazed look in his eyes, hands shaking as a fork clattered against the table. But, at least there was a smile. Not an innocent one, but a smile nonetheless. “And of course! Next to be marrying you, the love of my life, the shimmer to my generic brown human eyes! This future is bound to be something extraordinary, Ford!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yes, do you know, I actually have very little doubt about that, Cipher.” He agreed readily, that same grin playing on his face. And for his part, Ford listened. He paid mind. He took in the details, careful to observe the other and the subtle changes. The shifts, the mania, the dangerous, living excitement that seemed to yearn for destruction, his and others. He played with the food at his fork, but his focus was on Bill. “That is frankly all the better that you feel that way, Bill. In time, those ideas will be put to the test. You will see. We have only just tapped at the surface of our training. And as everything does, it will take time before these things gain momentum.” No shortcuts, not in this universe. Not in any authenticity. Even if you could manipulate and utilize certain concepts...him being one of them, life was strife with responsibility. And desire. And work. A slight smile continued to curl there on his face. “Of course.” Was his only response, a light, almost joking tone at the notions of marriage. Where once it had baffled him and he’d sought to tame the ideas with information and facts, now the other’s attempts to “woo” him seemed to leave him amused.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I do have to warn you, I’m not really great with kids,” Bill said, struggling to really contain his laughter. “Hell, not sure if I want any either! Might have to settle with adopting Pine Tree until he inevitably ends up hating me whenever I—“ There’s a pause here. Another slip up almost given, though his smile and laughter died rather quick, those manic eyes staring off in the distance in deep thought. Almost like a glitch in his system, a hiccup to everything that was processing through his head. Bill cleared his throat, eyes trailing down to the unfinished food. “Uh, excuse me. Minor adjustment going on in this noggin of mine. You know how it is.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Children? Well. I suppose if we were to copulate, they too would be demons on some part.” Again, all of it was only banter, a kind of...play on something humorous, not falling towards anything actual or close to serious for the demon. He grinned all the same, albeit his gaze did take in Bill’s hesitance, his faltering. To do with Mason Pines, no doubt. Their relationship struck him as...complex. And frankly, nothing that was his business. For his part, he let it slide. “It is not a problem, Bill.” He assured the other curtly, politely, continuing to cut his meal as he did, giving care not to exert too much force.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“...How does that work? Does someone give birth or is it some whole asexual plant thing?” That probably didn’t make much of sense, especially regarding what Ford just explained moments prior. It wouldn’t add up. He finally went in for another bite, contemplating. “Not to intrude in your business in uh, what you got down there. Doesn’t matter much to me. Might be a genocidal dictator eventually, but I’m no sexual harasser.” That could be debated.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hm. Well, it differs between entities.” He dismissed, waving his hand off, “The answers to that are frankly as wide and diverse as beings similar to my kind. I have even heard tale that the Axolotl itself laid an egg that eventually birthed this universe we exist in...and that its offspring eventually will emerge from its dying remains. However as for me specifically…” He considered the food at the end of his fork, “...yes, being what I am, I suppose I would give birth. Though I have never attempted it.” He paid little mind to Bill’s talk about ruling the world or other thoughts, playing with the end of his fork. “It is difficult to say, considering as much.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Then.. anyone from your kind can give birth, is what you’re saying? You know, Ford. That’s a very flexible reproduction system your kind has going on. If the last woman on earth died, then the human race as a whole would go extinct.” As funny as it were. It’s interesting to compare them both, see where the more complex differences lied in anatomy and structure. He would have to tell Dipper the wifehusband description was the most accurate. “Birth looks painful! I’m glad I was born with a meat scepter. No offense, of course.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Humans are much less...versatile than many other species and beings, Bill. Mortals here on earth in that way especially are...very simplistic. Not in every way perhaps. But in these, yes.” He explained easily, “There are plenty beings that reproduce in manners you could not comprehend; soaking in the auras of a dying star or simply exchanging certain elements of energy to coalesce into a new being. There are beings of over fourteen billion sex alike and whose mere mention of their names would cause a mortal to disintegrate at once. The multiverse is a very large, almost endless space, filled with nothing but the extraordinray.” And he began eating more of the food, looking back up to the other, giving a slight grin. “Yes, I suppose it would be a rather interesting experience. As it stands in this moment, on a personal level, I would not know.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I see.” Genuine interest leaked from the words. Names that can’t be uttered? Ah, if only it were possible to strive for such a thing. Bill was beginning to believe he was born into the wrong species. It would make sense, at the very least. “I feel like I’ve learned plenty about you in a short amount of time here. Thank you for answering my questions, but I feel this is a bit one sided. Is there something you’d like to ask me, hm? The bundle of surprise?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford inclined his head in response to the words before he took time taking his next bite and mulled over the question. “Hm...I have something of a quandary, I suppose...When you obtain this power you seek Bill, out of curiosity, what is it you plan to do?” He asked, voice level and rather mild, only a hint of curiousity there.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“To eliminate everything on this planet and destroy its dimension,” Bill replied casually, not batting an eye. A very cold type of response that contrasted with the otherwise bright smile on his face, savoring the flavor of beef and boiled potatoes. “From there,” he continued, swallowing before speaking again. “There’s room for some variety and adjustments. I just have to get that marked off before everything gets rolling.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You wish to destroy this dimension...and your planet?” He asked, curiosity suddenly piqued. This was...interesting, to say the least. Certainly more than he expected. Most who sought power sought to rule, not destroy. And those that sought to destroy often were already consumed by a certain amount of rage and reckless, suicidal chaos.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _Precisely._ Am I the first to ask you that? I’d hope not!” This discussion would never come to light with Dipper, or anyone else, really, given how outlandish it truly was based off selfish desires and a rather ignorant view of his own world. People, as well, though Bill’s mind had been set in stone since he was a child. There’s no budging by this point.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Interesting. And...in terms of the entire dimension and planet? In some respects, yes. Or rather...I have been visited by many who wished to destroy their enemies. To destroy those they passionately despised. Even just for the sake of simple destruction. The need to ravage. But for you, I suppose I had...assumed your goals lay elsewhere.” He considered, honestly placing the reality of this in front of the other, “So if I may ask, why then, Bill? Why turn to total destruction?” He pressed, and this in fact, seemed to have his attention, certainly taking his interest by now. So this was the future the human sought for? Ford had easily seen bloodlust in humans before. Many times over countless eons, more common than anything else. It was something that he skimmed over at times, saw in the depth of them at others, and saw reflected that carnal need for destruction.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m afraid I’m not ready to disclose much of that.” If ever. Bill was finishing off his bread, staring off into the reddened wine trapped behind the glass, noting his reflection. It’s always weird to see himself. To view an image of a body he controlled from a different perspective. “Unfortunately, humans are _pretty_ sensitive creatures. Even the sociopaths. A curse among us. Maybe one day I’ll tell you. Or, you know, you could probably pry around in my mind, but I don’t think I’d be too keen towards it. As much as I love you and all.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hm.” He commented, idly surveying the other, trying to tell if in fact there was truth there behind those words. If that was the motivator Bill had for all of this. Destruction. Reverence in the ravaging of all that existed in this plane. It was also true that he could reach into their bond, siphon through it and find Bill’s true emotions, feel and connect to his thoughts and memories. Much the same way Bill could do for him. But it brought no purpose with it. It gained neither of them anything at all. And too, if the human tried, odds were he would be exposed to too much of himself, even the things that Ford had worked hard to shield from the mortal, less he fully lose his mind. 

Often mortals thought more of themselves than was ever remotely capable. It was an interesting thing. Something that drew him, that sort of raw spirit in the fact of oblivion. In the face of such a short, momentary lifespan. More often they vanished without a trace, returning from the earth they were bred from. But the power of that space, of that spirit, of the ideas that lingered in humanity...it had always drawn to him. Caught him into a curious state of things.

“Very well. If that is how you wish it. I must admit I am rather surprised that this was your goal from the start. Would it be too much to ask what you will do once you’ve obliterated this dimension?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Marry you and have sex.” Blunt. The answer was expected there, as mentioned before, but of course it wouldn’t be the last stopping point of his destructive path. Only a small blanket covering the rest. There were multiple predictions he had conjured around these late night thoughts. Obtaining God status, from the mere slip he’s seen, had clearly confirmed he would eventually be devoid of humanity. No restrictions, sympathy, or guilt. Bill’s face darkened, thinking it over. There’s no doubt other dimensions would face his wrath, and perhaps some brave soul would get lucky, forever trap him until the end of time before the process repeated. “Rebirthing a new world seems up my alley after a proper cleansing. There’s holes in some of my plans, but in general I don’t think that question is so easy to answer at this point in time.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Again, Ford found himself reading the blunt flirtatious ideas from the human as nothing but a diversion. A distraction, perhaps to make light of the conversation. In his mind, he didn’t truly believe Bill to be serious about such things, no, not entirely. Not where it mattered. He studied him, leaning back and musing over it. “So you do not only wish to be a deity, then. You wish to be just as the Axolotl. A true god.” Bill Cipher did shoot high, that was for certain. It went beyond his expectations of even those of his sort. Ambitions were one thing, the craving for power was one thing. But this level was certainly something many would consider properly insane.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Let’s say I’m... competitive. I don’t wish to be like anyone else, if only to remove that entity from my path as a whole and claim the position.” A _far,_ far reach implying he could destroy Axolotl. A playful glint appeared in his eyes at the idea, and finally, he drank, warming his throat with a content sigh. “I’m starting to sound like some cartoon villain. It’s funny how that works, how my mind always goes for the route that will kill me. Hah. Do I seem suicidal? Because I’m not.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“No, you do not seem suicidal. Simply…” He considered though, pondering over the proper idea, “...I suppose overly ambitious may be the word. Let me ask and...I will give to it being my final question for now. As you have asked me quite a few, I think that is fair. Do you believe you can obtain that much power? Do you truly believe you could come to be that sort of entity?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yes.” The glimpse of the future had bumped his confidence too much, far too much for his own health. Though Bill would keep an eye on too much recklessness. There’s plenty to happen, but even then, he couldn’t muster up the... heart to exactly harm Dipper. Either mentally or physically. Bill met Ford’s eyes, unblinking for a moment. “Do you truly believe you could help me reach such a goal?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford considered, meeting the other’s gaze head on. “...I can help you gain power. I can open up to you realms and possibilities beyond your comprehension. I can open many doors, Bill Cipher, as can my realm and the knowledge that lays there...but in the end, only you can walk through them.” He answered cryptically. “I will admit, I had not expected this level of desire from you, Bill. Even gaining powers close to mine is unfathomable. And by all rights should be out of your reach. Hardly any mortal has obtained anything close to such, among countless billions. However, to seek heights such as the Axolotl...it is…” Again he paused...and again, returned to the same word, albeit it held some amount of doubt there, “...Ambitious.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Ambitious... _and_ attractive, you might say?” This would either end horribly, horribly wrong or the status would be achieved, marking him down as the most chaos ridden creature within existence. To be summoned only with the intent of pure destruction, to have his name be unheard of, to make those who uttered it have their teeth fall and lungs clogged with blood. Fitting, he believed, but bordered on being a teenager’s edgy diary. He would have to get more creative. “I hope you’ll give some consideration of being beside the most powerful man _ever._ I already have the wedding invitations in mind.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Ambitious as in...somewhat unfathomable, in respects.” He wondered how far Bill was willing to go to obtain it. He supposed he would see. Perhaps the boy would simply learn to readjust his sights as time went along. Mold them into something more ambitious in a realistic sense. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to have such a long shooting desire, if just at this time. After all, they’d only just begun working and Bill, even by human standards, was still very, very young. “Can you really send wedding invitations if there is no longer anyone left to receive them?” He asked mildly, but there was again a hint of humor there, again of joking, even as he continued to enjoy the food at the plate.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“We’ll have to search for newer friends from the multiverse.” And by friends, only people being used as objects for his exaggerated romanticization of what a Bill Cipher wedding should be. Afterwards, well, hopefully all would make it out alive. “If you have any, that is, it might make this a _little_ easier. Never went to one wedding in my life, so I’ll apologize in advance if it isn’t traditional.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**


	8. A year later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rex: There's about a year timeskip from here out cuz we wanted to get the ball rolling on things. :| Slowed down a bit, but imo it picks up pretty strong later.

It was night again. Stanford normally didn’t pay too much mind to the shifting of day to night that swiftly fell, turning on earth, but it seemed to be marked regularly to him by Bill’s dream form visiting their realm. He was organizing a few books among some shelves close to the giant hearth of the fire, preoccupied, but expecting the other’s familiar presence to appear at any given moment. He had already set aside a number of books to continue that interesting take on a portal that Bill had been working on earlier, wreaths of shadow diligently moving through separate texts to also accompany them. At the table before the flickering emerald and blue flames rested too the familiar assortment of tea and an odd decoration of snacks, something he’d become accustomed to setting out for Bill’s inevitable arrival here in the space at large. A number of subtle changes marked the area as well by the time Bill had been a part of the space, giving the once aged and pristine place a much different feel to it, a subtle, but comfortable mixing of ideas.

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The reappearances into Ford’s space— his as well, rather, had taken a number of days to properly shake the nauseating feeling of aimlessness, like his body wasn’t attached to a solid plane. If only suspended in midair, desperately trying to search for grounding. Luckily, he had found it. The countless conversations and visits had created a more.. steady foundation for Bill to cling to. His materialization into the scape is cordial, hands in his pockets, blinking once for adjustment of the new, much warmer scenery in comparison to the muted colors of his own household. “Hello, handsome,” he greeted warmly, a horrendous English accent attached from his recent watchings of old British horrors with Dipper. He sauntered towards the seat he became quickly familiar with. Almost their little routine, him crossing his legs as soon as he’s seated. “I do have to say, the eyes above your head are looking marvelous today, my dear chap. Your black tendrils? Handsomely done.”

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“Bill.” He greeted, a certain familiarity in the tone as he placed a final text on the pile gathered just at the rug behind him, “I was browsing through the library and came across quite a few books that may prove interesting.” His tone was light, conversational, but also intrigued as he walked over toward the hearth, flickers of shadows as ever embracing him, his eyes dully content and curious as a few perused the book in question he held in his hands. He paused only briefly in handing it to the other, an extensive text on the research Bill had been looking into, and much of the more complex natures of it also having been given background by him to the human while he’d been sleeping this week in between their visits. He could use their connection in these times to place comprehension and pure understanding, knowledge of the most base kind, into one’s mind. And with Bill it was actually even far easier than most that had come before him. Not to say it wasn’t a challenge, and still delicate work, but Ford found that the other just had a certain affinity for the nature of their bond that surprised him and proved to work towards their advantage. “I see you are...practicing new cultural voices.” He commented bluntly, raising a brow as he did, hands folded behind his back.

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“Oh, you have? Thank you.” It’s said with sincerity, a softened look as he took it, grinning, already flipping open to a few pages. “Practicing?” He echoed, only giving a brief skim of the pages. Just a small dip into larger waters. The research itself had been frustrating, down from the math, materials, and generally solving the way to mold everything together into something functional. Preferably a device that didn’t detonate and ruin his million dollar home. “Practicing? Oh, no no. I’m mocking the British. Their accents are annoying, but hilarious in an unintentional comedic sense.”

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That definitely sounded more like the other. “Ah, I see.” There was a somewhat judgmental, but almost joking tone to the words as he looked to the other, seeming at ease to watch as Bill flipped through the book. “And if I may ask, how precisely is the portal coming along.” Again his tone was more conversational as he moved toward the other end of the table, easily a tendril wrapping around one of the tea cups on automatic, allowing the teapot to float in the air and deposit a bright golden liquid into both his and Bill’s respectively. He dropped into his chair, smiling at the other in a casual fashion. “I seem to remember you were quite stuck on some of the concepts.”

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“Could you ask me a week from now? Believe it or not, I’m pretty mortified by my progress!” It entirely consisted of frustration, small tantrums where he nearly ripped his own hair out, scratching out plans, ripping notebooks and snapping pencils. He had accidentally broke a pen a few days prior, resulting in a forever ruined suit. In general, the time hasn’t been so great. Perhaps his unusually disheveled mess of blonde could speak for him on that manner. “Stuck, you say. What I call it, is a temporary inconvenience. Nothing I can’t handle.”

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"Naturally if you’d prefer I assist…” He offered vaguely, the tendrils gathering up a few other books and bringing them forward. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt for me to teach you a few more specifics about quantum theory. These too should prove useful, maybe you’ll find perusing them to answer some of the more difficult aspects of your project.” And he placed them at the edge of the table, contented to sip at his tea. It was a bold project he had to admit, already something no human at least had ever managed in this dimension and worth pursuing and growing from.

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“I wouldn’t, actually.” Bill’s smile was still there, gentle, even as he continued to skim over the contents. “This is... my own journey, so to speak. As much as I’d love for you to give me a leading, I wouldn’t receive much satisfaction around the end process if it’s not entirely by my own effort. You understand that, don’t you?”

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He more than understood. Actually, there was even something maybe of a respect there, or an appreciation far more accurately. It was the type of being he was, to appreciate independence. The struggle and pursuit for it. “No. Of course I understand, Bill.” He leaned back in his chair, meaning the words, taking in Bill’s features. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the growth there.

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“And believe me do I love listening to you speak, haha.” There’s a lingering tiredness somewhere in those words, maybe a hint of past frustrations. Bill took the pleasure of placing the book to the side, retrieving his tea. “Just a few hours ago I was gushing about how much I love hearing you speak! I think I got it bad, like those unsuspected hypnotized men when sailing the seas and coming across sirens.”

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Ford noted the weariness, but simply held the tea cup up in acknowledgement. “Success is often a mistress that demands sacrifice.” He smiled lightly, “But you will get there. I have faith in you, Bill.” He commented, before finally chuckling at the last comparison. “Oh, I’m sure. As you have mentioned many times before. I find that it is just fortunate that you discovered my tomes and the summoning circle within it. You've already come far since then.”

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“And I can come even further, just watch.” Bill slapped his knee, laughing at his own joke with no proper explanation around this time, as it was mostly and only meant for himself to enjoy. “But really, it’s really nice hearing you believe so much in me. Makes this cold blood pusher all hot and warm on the inside. A special motivator I like to call ’Demon Determination’. Got a nice ring to it.”

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He lifted a touch of a brow, letting out a short sound one might compare to disapproval, but it had no real weight behind it. “Frankly, I believe you’re a lot closer than you think, Bill. In reality it is a rather impressive design over all. A bit...rudimentary, but if done properly, it will get the job done.” He commented lightly, taking another careful sip of tea. If Bill had wanted to, he could probably even tear a hole through this dimension with the concept, though Stanford found himself doubting the other would do such things before reaching his final goal. The one he’d boasted about once upon a time. Sometimes he found himself...not curious, but interested perhaps in if that was still the other’s final aspiration. Total conquest and recreation. It would be a rather isolated, dire life, if so. Very unfulfilling in his own view point for a mortal whose life could not hope to even reach the span of that space. He still felt, despite himself, some touch of belief the other may find power in the same pursuits he did. May one day turn to the realization that there was nothing greater than the constant search for answers, the constant improvement, learnedness of an individual, the constant breaking of barriers to true wisdom. “I suppose Dipper is still doing well?” He’d vaguely been aware of the boy reaching out to separate entities to seek information about him, other beings that were...perhaps less friendly than himself. He wasn’t quite certain if Bill was aware of this or not, nor if it was his place to say anything. He wasn’t concerned, he was fairly certain it came from some place of wanting to learn more.

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Bill regarded that with a strained smile, a type that became more apparent with the slightest twitch to the corner of his mouth. Another addition towards his habits of throwing outlandish comments in order to create some coping mechanism, the smiles were the same. Just a lot more creepier and less disruptive as a whole. Nonetheless, he continued drinking, light sips given each time with a bounce of the foot. He’s grown a little tired of relooking the same notes, restarting about fifteen times per session of research. Apart of him wanted to outright ask for help, maybe watch Ford give a stronger lead in comparison. Though Bill’s pride.. was quite the stubborn thing, like an immovable force. “He is,” Bill murmured against the rim. “Pretty sure he’s trying to court Northwest down the road, if you know who that is. Just a whole bunch of teenage things that I’m not interested in.”

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If Stanford were honest, it was something he appreciated. Not just in Bill, but any being. The stubborn will to drive toward the next hidden portion of knowledge, the next discovery, the next mapping of possible understanding. As much as he found a draw towards teaching rather more almost as if he were bound to do so, he could never fault anything for pursuing such ideas. “Hm, I do know, yes.” Strangely one of those things he spent very little time musing over and there was still a certain bafflement, a certain...entire disconnect when it came to his features and talks about human ideas such as this. Even with their talks over time on the subjects, it still seemed so removed from him, ironically still one of those things that seemed ungraspable by the demon. He didn’t seem very invested regardless. “I have not spoken with him recently, however he is not…” He considered mildly, “Injured in any way?”

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“Injured? Not that I know of. You mean mentally? From rejection? Because I’m betting he’s going to get rejected!” Well, at least it was a more obvious take that Bill, in fact, was not aware of Dipper summoning other creatures, and who knew exactly what reaction he would give in return. It’s always a gamble. “But uh, what gave you that impression? If I’ll be honest, I’m surprised I haven’t accidentally gotten him killed when we’re running through those forests! Pine Tree has strong will, just like yours truly.”

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“You two do seem to get along rather well together.” He commented lightly, an almost curious, albeit calm tone there. He debated momentarily whether or not to be the one to inform Bill of these things. It wasn’t in his nature to hide things, rather the opposite - Stanford simply didn’t lie. He didn’t care to dance around subjects nor trifling human play games, to indulge in their pointless social structures. Albeit, this was generally with important information. Worthwhile information. Things such as this...were almost too beneath him or apart from him to be bothered with. “Admittedly I have...heard whispers from around the spaces I can travel through. I don’t suppose he mentioned anything about seeking outside sources among there for information?” He’d even found Dipper bringing up once making a deal with Ford, however it hadn’t been anything substantial or serious, nor possible in his current predicament. A question, as if still seeking how to adjust the ideals between him and Bill and regardless of it the demon had quickly shot it down. He had a very specific set of guidelines for those who took under his wing, and was even more very particular to never take more than one being in such a space at a time. No matter the circumstance.

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Bill’s lips drew to a line, eyes moving to the right corner as he thought. “No. That’s... interesting.” And bothersome, and dangerous, and admirably well hidden from his own knowledge. Either Dipper was learning to lie to him and shove secrets into a neatly packaged box(he would be somewhat proud), or he’s simply getting lucky with these ventures. There’s conflicting emotions all around. In the next moment, he threw his arm up, sinking in the seat. “Ugh! Kids! I tell ya! I can barely handle this one. What’s he doing? Trying to become stronger or something again?”

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He found a slightly amused smile grace his features at Bill’s usual erratic enthusiasm, a slight thing there, enjoying a moment for another drink of the hot, biting tea. “Nothing like that. More about the same.” He dismissed a bit, clear on some levels that while there was admiration to be had to those that sought out ideas, it wasn’t particularly something that phased or interested him deeply. “Simply about the nature of deals and bonds between demons, much that you and I share. As well as asking about myself. I can tell you I am not what you would call a well known figure as I do not over extend my presence, though many know of my name in whisper or in passing.” Ford wasn’t one for the dramatics after all, for big shows of power or effect. He worked in the shadows, sought in the shadows, and tended to be more one for isolation and study. Even with how great his knowledge was, and his power, it was never flaunted. Therefore only the truly devoted or perhaps unfathomably lucky tended to discover the undercurrent channels of information about him or his nature. “But I will say these beings he’s been meddling with are not...as gracious as I am. I have warned him to tread lightly.”

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“Ford— okay, lets talk about this right quick.” Bill was in no position to ask a demon to properly scold a child. His child, nonetheless, who he might have influenced these passing months to engage further in the alluring supernatural lifestyle. It didn’t help that the kid saw his own future, saw him almost die, then become clearly an agent of chaos that was raining hellfire. A tipping point. It was only natural Dipper eventually fell into the holes of seeking higher power. “I know this probably isn’t up your alley, and the whole moral code is a little.. lost there, but you gotta.. gotta speak up. Dipper is stupid.” Bill paused, then elaborated. “Alright, he’s not stupid stupid, but he’s a kid wrapped up in emotions! I bet if some piece of cereal came floating down and asked for a deal to, I don’t know, unlock a password he forgot to his computer, he’d take it! So do you think you can tell him.. not to do that? Instead of a warning? I bet he’d listen to you.” There was a joke about coparenting somewhere in there, but Bill decided to save it for another time.

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He eyed the other for a moment over his drink. It wasn’t really his place to telling any being or creature to not pursue some aspects of knowledge. Or to stop down the paths they chose independently, regardless of the reasons or dangers. But he relented slightly. “I...will try to warn him more clearly next time.” He agreed, if only just. “However I doubt it will have much effect. He is a lot like you in many ways, I’ve noticed over time.” Just as headstrong and, seemingly, willing to dive into the unknown with no safety net.

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Bill was sure that wasn’t enough, if only him crashing into the kid’s bedroom at midnight and shaking his shoulders frantically before “Fiddler” alerted the authorities would be the prime option to take. It would certainly drill a bullet into his skull that tampering with beings that dealt out promises was the stupidest thing imaginable. And it’s all painfully ironic to his own life. “That’s because I’m raising him! I give him life lessons everyday.” That are usually useless, random, and irresponsible. About fifteen percent of the time were the “lessons” actually worth something of value.

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“Hm....I must admit, it does seem to show.” He mused offhandedly, maybe more in a tone that offered some slight touch of humor to it. “In that way I’m certain he’ll continue to do what he thinks he must.” For what reasons were not something he was entirely certain of, but he knew Mason was as eager for knowledge and discovery, regardless the price, as the other sitting before him. He supposed that must be one reason they got along as well as they seemed to. Or maybe it was an influence, he didn’t have any specific idea for how long they’d known each other or the scope of the relationship, even with his musings.

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“He’s not that stubborn.” Pine Tree was, in fact, very stubborn, and could possibly be Bill’s spitting image if he occasionally tossed a few bits of morality to the side in favor of riskier and relationship ruining fun. Though that’s what made Dipper, Dipper. “Wait. How stubborn am I? Sometimes this whole self-reflection is lost on me after I spend weeks in isolation.”

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“Stubborn enough.” He replied briskly, his voice clipped, the writhings of his form continuing in its usual fashion as a book floated into his grasp in a certain idle curiosity. “Enough to forge an inescapable bond with me, for one.” A twitch of a smile came to his form, still swathed in the subtle shadows of movement from his being, a tendril picking lazily through the pages. “Have you decided what you’ve wanted to practice here tonight, Bill? Quandaries or ideals you’d like to seek tonight?” He asked the other idly, his human eyes on the book even as a few of his many others seemed to settle against the human.

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Bill smiled sheepishly. Hearing Ford word it in such an obvious way had offered a different perspective, just for the slightest second. “I did some thinking while almost being mauled by a two headed bear the other day,” he started with, situating himself comfortably. “Immortality clearly comes with the status of being God. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m not really a fan of living forever.” It was a price he was willing to take, however. “Though I’ve also realized by some certain point, trotting through this journey might come to an end earlier if I’m not able to defeat diseases or avoid accidents. Little things can kill a human, so much as drinking too much water! The thing that keeps us alive!” And instead of it being amusing, it was frustrating. He couldn’t lie. Here and there paranoia consumed him in anticipation where he would lose his eye. A small price when it came to destroying a dimension, but even he had limits beyond a degree. Gargling on choked sobs as he bled in his lover’s very strange hands happened to be on the list. Now, anyway. “I want to achieve immortality quickly, is what I’m getting at here, but eventually I would change how my deaths are processed. Rebirthing, springing to life like a Phoenix. Just to put it dramatically.”

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“Immortality, hm?” It was actually a rather dull goal for Stanford, who had heard it all before time and time and time again over countless ages. Or more it would be, he supposed, coming from anyone else. Mortals tended to have a dull aspect to them in this light, losing and missing certain perspectives, wasting their already so fleeting existence, falling into a certain repetitive mix that fell to the wayside. Living forever, defeating death, conquering mortality, often if tied to the unsavory, the uneducated, the foolish, those with base desires and...it got rather old for him. It was perhaps the most common of reasons he was sought for quite frankly, that his tomes were scavenged, empires burned, wars fought just for him to be tracked down. For this very question to be brought to his attention. He did naturally help guide these mortals. On occasion. But more often than not, the journey simply led his “pupils” (if you could call them that) meeting their own demise in such attempts, as the ironic twists of fate would have it. Even most every mortal he’d found some potential in, that he had been tied to had asked or sought this out at one time or another. Only Da Vinci, who he had always something of a calming respect for, a certain fondness for, had seemed beyond such ideas. Wiser in many ways than he could manage to grasp himself. He had enjoyed that, once upon a time. One who had not completely fallen to madness.

He was a rare one though. And more often than not countless faces, countless tribes, countless souls always seemed to seek for only one thing: to chase away death. Most often it was an almost assured, simple predictability...something that was tedious. Dull. Filled with normality. Yet all the same, it rang differently in Bill. It held in its weight, in the grasp of Cipher differently. Immortality was not a goal, simply an intrusion it seemed, a necessity to the other. Some needed sacrifice for a grander idea. One Stanford again held some...perhaps sympathy towards. Sympathy as he was certain William would never achieve it. He still had some wisdom about him, some patience to see if the human would eventually resettle his goals, seek a more realistic approach. Fall away from wasting his time with such endeavors. “Are you proposing to find eternal life? Or to speed the concepts of your desired… “godhood.”

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“Eternal life,” Bill answered, somewhat sternly as became lost in thought. “Speeding the process of my godhood is no bueno, Ford. I consider it cheating! A tainted part in my path. We’re going the way where I’m going to endure torturous trials, just like whatever the god that created me intended for.” Strange, yet familiar response by now. “Once my status is achieved, I will allow myself to be killed once again. By anyone, anything.”

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He gave a curious kind of glance at that, frowning, his mind back against memories of Da Vinci and others of his ilk, back to the days stretched out in the man's workshop, musings in calmly displayed inventions. He snapped the book shut. Bill tended to have that ability on him, to surprise him, draw his attention from things that normally he wouldn’t be pulled from. “When you become a god...do you plan to abandon your immortality?” He asked, and it was clear that there was both a hint of confusion and intrigue in his tone.

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“Yes. After I obliterate this dimension from existence and rebirth it, I will abandon my immortality.” Very odd, if another cemented reason on why Bill needed to seek professional help in the meantime. Yet Bill smiled like it was nothing, seemingly at ease at this decision. “I’ll have to die sometime. I can only hope that you’ll miss me, maybe throw me a beautiful funeral in my passing.”

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He surveyed the other, still a trapping of interest there against him, book at his lap. “And...would that be due to a sacrifice on your part? An idea of...righting “wrongs” in this current universe?” He asked, still somewhat curiously, placing a woven, clawed finger beneath his chin as his eyes met the other’s.

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“No.” Bill leaned forward, still grinning, still unfazed by the acceptance of death. “I could care less about righting my “wrongs.” Doesn’t mean a thing to me. I just don’t have the desire to live forever, I’m afraid. When I’m dead and gone, I’ll reincarnate into a different being. One without the memories of my past life, starting from scratch one. A fresh start, a brand new person.”

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He tapped at his chin, considering the other fully. “Hm….” It didn’t make a lot of sense in its own way, which was something to be said for a being of absolute knowledge, particularly not when he was so used to the quandaries of humanity, in the insistence, the pursuit to defeat death for Bill to both gain a space vanquished from it and then willingly give it up to achieve different goals. He set the book aside, moving a leg to cross the other in more full consideration. “Bill. If I can ask, what drives you to achieve these ideas?” It had been asked before, but less direct, and in a different time. A time long enough by now that he felt more comfortable voicing the question. “And just what sort of new dimension or...dimensions would you even fathom to try and birth?”

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Bill stared for a silent minute. He was considering his words carefully, if not for Ford, then for his own mental health. There were triggers. Not enough to spiral out of control, but ones to brought about snappish reactions he wouldn’t want to bring onto Ford. If not because he feared what the demon could do, then because he simply didn’t want to disrespect him. “...Hatred.” A strong word, but fitting and vague enough to stick. “I’m still running through those details. I find it more appropriate to think this over when I’m in the position to actually change anything.”

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Something came to settle darkly into Ford at the answer, something rife, even expected...something that fit, settling with some small, dark breadth of appreciation to it. He sat up straighter then, bringing his fingers together, a dark thing tipping at the squirming, smoothly moving constant of his dark features.

It certainly made sense. It fit. What else to drive a being into such a space, such a goal, such a wild, fitful persistence? What else than ambition, than hatred. It often seemed to Ford that there were only two things that could truly drive a human being. Both two sides of one coin - inseparable. Closely linked. And fuel that sent a fire of wrath and desire to crash upon everything around. Kingdoms could burn for their cause. And one, inevitably, was a fuse that could often light the other. Hatred. Vengeance. Loathing. Anger. Rage....simple and spiteful chaos.

And in mirror light - the concepts of human love. Light. Warmth. Kindness. Forgiveness. Repentance. Round and round they went. Round and round they turned. Love to anguish, anguish to vengeance, vengeance to death. Bill was certainly very human. Bill certainly held the ambition for power. Without the drive, the fire, the spark, there was no chance for the explosion to occur. For any goal to be reached. It...struck Ford, somewhat.

“I see.” Was all he said, all he gave to the other. Allowing him his own festerings, own desire on the matter. He could almost see the full weight of that rage, that chaos lingering beneath the surface, readying like a viper to strike in his direction. Wise Cipher decided to calm it, keep it from his direction. He was his benefactor, as comfortable as they were with each other now. And it was an unwise thing to forget. “Immortality...is something most desire and many seek. It is not an easy things to grasp for one born into your world.”

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“I know, but it’s worth a shot.” Tense. He was tense all of a sudden, the discomfort bubbling as his eyes glowered at the floor. There was no intent to direct it at Ford, as it wasn’t meant for him, though Bill’s side of the room had... considerably darkened, shadows steadily consuming him, perhaps a blurry face or two concealed within the darkness trying to reach out and grasp him. An accident on his part— but, not too unfamiliar. His emotions happened to influence certain parts of dreamscape. Not always, and not always on whim, but if they were, say, extreme enough, they were definitely willing to make an uninvited introduction into the scene. Bill threaded his fingers together, resting forearms on his thighs as he sorta loomed over. Deep in thought. Deep in whatever was causing him distraught.

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“Indeed it is.” He agreed, voice still light, still collected, even as he took in the flashing images, the faded ideas that fell through the dreamscape. Even as Bill’s penchant, his bright talent to utilize their bond, the take to it as if it were his own, as if it were water to him, coalesced into the scenery, taking at its form, at the edges of the surroundings. It interested Ford in a way. Enticed him, the levels that it placed in the human. The layers that pressed at him, forming in certain ways right before his many perspective eyes. “But it is one most never can hope to reach. Even those who were my disciples in past. You...should be wary, William. Many waste their lives pursuing the attempt. Better to find a way to slow death, to lessen it, Bill, to gradually halt its grip and strengthen vitality. Not that I will prevent your search, it is simply an opinion.”

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“Maybe.” It’s.. not as engaging as he hoped it would sound, but he thought it over, always considered Ford’s words no matter the situation. In time, too, a pair of slender black arms emerging from dark clouds would snake around the back of his neck, hanging loosely. Though Bill paid it no mind, continuing as if those plagued thoughts couldn’t harm him. And that’s because they couldn’t. “It’s something that’ll take time to think over. I’m a character! Unpredictable, and I can’t say I’m able to stop myself once I start.”

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“No, that is certainly something I’ve seen about you.” Ford agreed, observing, watching as the black arms wove to life around the other. He could easily reach into the realm, dispel, disperse the images. Fade them into unreality. But the concept was...insulting. Intruding even. Far beneath him. Instead he brought a black, weaving hand out into the air and waved it gently, a large, leather-bound red book speeding out from far, far, far into the infinity of the hall, floating there in a soft red glow from Ford’s powers between them. The tomb had a large circular protrusion, a realistic, gruesome appearing 3D eye at its center, sclera a deep red, painted in a gold slit, unblinking and staring. A gold lining ran from the eye’s outer edges, a line crossing to the sides where a clasp kept it bound together. Another wave of his hand, a gentle, smooth and almost unconscious movement opened the tome, creaking under the weight of its impossible age, opening to flicker through pages and pages of some indecipherable language, many symbols reflected back in paintings of very clear blood reds and deep blacks, a glimpsing of ancient pyramids with eyes in their surfaces, creatures of undecipherable horror, before the page settled on a golden necklace with one single eye dangling at its center. “This particular artifact will, if you can manage to contain the coursing powers and whim, halt your aging process.” He said simply.

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“...Thank you.” Bill looked it over carefully, a tad hesitant for once in his life. That could be due to the rapid emotions currently swarming, even if his outer appearance didn’t exactly portray it truthfully. The arms wrapped around him, however, did. “And where would I find this? I’d say one of these days you’ll have to teach me a few languages every once and again.”

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“The language of quantum physics and mathematics isn’t enough?” But it was said lightly, in clear jest. He wrapped his hands together, considering the other as those ethereal arms created through Bill’s impossible, innate abilities wrapped at his human and as Bill took hold of the ancient book, each page colored with age and obviously hand drawn, slaved over to bring into creation. Older than the human could imagine. “That is the question.” He said simply. He paused to reach out and take a sip of his teacup, mulling over the next part. “Due to...the vast immensity of its power, the weight of its entire potential, its worth...very few have ever obtained it. The means for its creation, as far as legend demands, was...unsavory. The cost of life unprecedented. It is said a being of wisdom locked it away from mortal hands and that it is guarded very jealousy, surrounded by many potential dangers. It is also presumed to be cursed.” He considered. “I will say this Cipher, I have told many where this object lays...and many countless have sought it. Every single one have died trying to obtain it.”

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“And Dipper wonders why I’m in love with you. How couldn’t I be?” There’s some disperse of the black fog, only slightly as it cleared somewhat. The arms themselves had became more transparent as a genuine smile graced Bill’s features. “C’mon, Ford. You should know me by now. You telling me that everyone else died along the way isn’t going to deter this train wreck. If anything, it makes me want it even more. I’m afraid you’ll be a widow much earlier then I originally anticipated.”

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He placed his fingers back together, the black and red tea cup floating there gently, idly beside him, eyes surveying Bill carefully. The whisps of black stoked about him, playing in a familiar movement, seeming to slow somewhat however, as if lost in the depth of his thought. “If you go, odds are you will not return.” He stated again. A stretch of a cool silence filled the air, tipped in the whisperings of his shadowed body, his eyes above turning from their listless movements to still somewhat, a reflective glow there, a certain pulse of energy at them that seemed to indicate a more dip into determination in the demon. “...Which means we will have to prepare you well.” He swept to his feet. A spear materialized in his fingers. “Did I ever speak with you about the abilities you may be capable of obtaining in the physical world, Bill? The ability to utilize the bind we have, the tethering, the powers I myself am capable of in your physical body on the real plane?” He more than likely had not. It was something no mortal tended to be capable of. Even reaching too deep into the cool, icy depths of his being, into the space of chaotic reality, impossible endless, ageless light of him was enough to drive men and women to gibbering madness. To return was impossible for such beings.

But Bill was different. Where mortals so often collapsed over time in this bond, this connection, in this play of energies that constantly wove between them, screaming and fettering themselves into endless madness, this human almost had an unconscious knack to settle there in the chill of it from what he could tell, into that impossibility of it, the ravages of his deeper nature and to utilize it to his own means. Perhaps the madness the other continued to display was a part of this, or maybe there were other factors there, tantalizing, beneath the surface of this human that had so genuinely caught hims interest. He’d seen Bill was unpredictable in these ways. He couldn’t master basic meditation techniques that children could manage, and yet things like this seemed akin to him.

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“You almost sound like you’ll miss me.” Self-projection at best. Avoiding the hands grazing his skin at worst. The future indeed injected him with an alarming confidence. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a necklace around him during those flashes, so here and now, he wondered if a different route would shift the outcome of everything. “You didn’t,” Bill confirmed. “You’ve been holding out on me! You’re telling me I could’ve been murdering the innocent weeks ago? I’m hurt.”

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A slight smile escaped him, playing at his lips. “It is not something any under my teaching have ever really managed without...rather dire consequences.” He admitted there, cautiously giving a nod toward the other as if in some respect of apology. “Understand that in this realm it is much safer, much, much easier for you to tap into our bond without it entirely overwhelming you as everything around us is, in a certain sense, a part of myself. And as we are bound, that means it is a part of you. In the physical plane however, you’ll only have the connection within you. Nothing more. To utilize that power, you will need to…” He paused, considering, maybe even hesitating, tapping mentally through the proper words, “...press past certain...unconscious barriers that your mind has set up to cope with the expanse and extent of what lays there. It is...dangerous. If pressed too far it will undoubtedly destroy you and render you permanently lost to madness, Bill. In ways any mortal would not be capable of coping with. It could even destroy your physical being. I will not put it lightly when I say it is very risky.” He studied the other to be sure the mortal understood the very real, powerful weight behind those words. “...The only reason I bring it up at all is that you are surprisingly...naturally gifted in this particular area. You have an innate affinity with my powers, with our bond that I have rarely ever witnessed in a mortal before.

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“That’s simply because we’re soulmates. Soon you’ll eventually see the truth in that.” Bill couldn’t lie. The explanation had spiked some fear, though not entirely. Perhaps Ford’s acknowledgement of his abilities had prevented a full takeover. Though, he wasn’t blind, not stupid to his own mindset. There’s things that needed unraveling first. He wasn’t in the right state in order to submit to such a power yet, and the darker depths.. weren’t something he was happily ready to meet once again. It took years to conceal most memories into the far corners. All to have it unwrapped, released? It really was risky. “I... am not mentally stable,” he admitted, surprisingly, but by this point it was only stating the obvious. “We might have to put a pause on that, as much as I would love to dive right in. I mean, you see what’s behind me, right? Ha. That’s suicidal right now.”

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“It is far more suicidal to venture into this space, to obtain this object of immortality as you are now.” Ford stated simply, certainly, still standing there to look down to the other. “If you go now to retrieve the necklace as you are in this moment you will be killed, Bill.” It was almost a promise, voice solemn and collected.

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“Most likely.” Most definitely. His voice was at ease, smooth, seeming unbothered by this fact, at least on the outside. Bill sighed, moving to his feet. The arms around him had retreated to their origins, almost waiting, stalking, watching for his next move. “I have.. quite the predicament here, don’t I? I don’t even know what to say by this point. Can you believe that? Me? Being at a loss for words? It’s like I’m an entirely different person with this curveball.”

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“You knew the ideas you would need to risk to obtain these newer levels, Bill. That has never been something hidden from you.” Ford reminded him calmly, still standing, still holding the spear rather easily as if in some sense of wait. “As it is you have only very few choices. Wait until you are at a more level space of greater strength, of further ability before pursuing this, begin to train in more these other aspects I have offered to teach you to take with you, or…” He paused, gaze lingering darkly, smoldering in a certain chill at Bill’s form. “...die at the hands of this space in this pursuit.”

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“I'm going to wait, obviously. Not trying to break myself this early on.” What did waiting actually require, though? Him working through things? Through all the degeneracy packed in his mind that were considered as his terrifying nightmares? Bill’s gaze snapped up at the feel. His lips were parted, but nothing bothered leaving. At least for a solid second. “I, uh. Need a little time. Not much, but I need some. Not sure if you could.. ever personally understand that.”

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He seemed to calm in a manner that only highlighted his before alert, ready state, the slitherings of his shadows stilling somewhat, a little bit less tension to their lazy movements, something more soft seemed to meet his edges instead, a nod dipping there, a smile curling at his lips, just slightly, “That is the wisest course of action.” He said, almost approvingly, perhaps even something in a touch of pride at the words and the look in his human eyes. With a grasp of his hand the spear vanished. “In the meantime, we certainly have time to prepare you, Bill. Having the goal in mind and working to achieve a state of readiness for it is the best course of action, I would have to say.”

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“Heh. You don’t know how hard you make it to not just reach and...” something he would most likely get smacked for, if not worse at this point in time. It wasn’t the right atmosphere for it either, especially not with the subject of possible death and immortality on the table. Though Ford’s tone had brought something else out of him. A sense of reassurance, maybe. Maybe something else entirely. Bill gave a belated nod, hands shifting inside his pockets. “Gotta promise not to get impatient with me! This one’s going to get rough. Real rough.”

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“I have nothing but patience.” He said honestly. It was true, for the real ideas out there. In his very nature, he was a being that moved and grew in inches and believed in nothing but that in the pursuit for real growth and development. Shortcuts could not be reached in this world, it was something he was certain of. Not real ones, at any rate. His smile remained there softly, observing the other even as Bill slipped his hands in his pockets. “Yes. I also do not for a moment doubt it. As I’m sure you’re aware, any one of these ideals worth pursuing will require work and endless sacrifice. Even if that sacrifice is patience, work...and time.” He offered, gently nodding again to the other to give to the idea.

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“I have nothing but impatience. Biggest trial yet! Don’t be surprised if I come here with half my hair ripped out the skull.” Hell, he almost accomplished that working on the portal. That barely had any progress whatsoever. It was shameful, mocking to his name. On the brighter side, the darkness plaguing his subconscious during the moment had faded, leaving nothing behind. It’s a little scary how Ford managed to have that impact on him. Fast, as well. “Quick question. Sorta on topic, sorta not. Do you have any things you’re terrified of festering in that mind of yours?”

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“Yes, I’ve certainly become aware of that over time.” The tone was still quite light there, almost a hint of humor on it despite anything. And at Bill’s question he tilted his head to the side almost in a sense of curiosity, studying the other carefully as if truly weighing and considering the words. “My very nature is in itself a festering. A festering chaos of depth outside the very grasp of this cosmos, the shadows of vast, endless turmoil. It is...what I am.” He stated almost blankly, as if it were held with a certain obviousness. And he paused again, blinking at the other. “Or…” He considered again, a certain expression of turning gears, of trying to work out a certain problem reflecting there. “Not to say I do not have...lingerings. Regrets, perhaps, you may say.” He continued, as if tasting the words, unfamiliar, or uncertain more, on his tongue.

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“Oh yes,” Bill drawled, a little too hungrily at the mention. His hands abandoned the pockets, settling with clasping together as he took a step closer, gazing at Ford with quite literal stars circling his eyes. “Could I hear about them? These regrets?” It was human. A human part he could relate with, and for that, he wanted to further delve into to, to extend their relationship beyond what it was now.

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“Well...I’m sure it’s not something you are aware of.” He seemed to linger on the idea, something shifting there beneath the surface, a certain contemplation, a certain moment to be lost to these hidden ideas of himself. “...I...suppose you may even say I’ve misled you in a few ways, Bill.” He admitted then abruptly, considering these ideas that came through his mind with something of a...not reluctance, but a pause, almost. “You see. The honest reality is that despite my nature, the state of what I am, what I’m sure you’ve considered…” He paused, lingering in the ideas. “A part of me...is not what I seem. Half of me is...human. Actually. As is a part of my twin brother, Stanley. The both of us are only really only part demon.”

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“Human,” Bill echoed, the harsh collision of deja vú strangling him by the throat. Except, the news wasn’t new, but even then he couldn’t contain the emotions of finally hearing it leave Ford’s mouth. Willingly. To him, freely, a personal exchange between them both, yet the scene from what he recalled had changed slightly. Little details to be discarded. Bill bathed in the present, face brightening, almost like a child who received a gift. “It makes sense in some way. You look part human.” Bill gestured towards his face, smiling wide. “But where does this regret come from? Is it from not telling me sooner? Something else?”

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And he paused there, as if considering his words heavily, as if pulling through the threads of them with a certain lingering of something that might touch as if conflict. “Well, yes, in part...I suppose. I never particularly meant to mislead you, Bill. Though that is how it turned out regardless. Quite honestly, it is not really something I share...openly.” He admitted, something of a tension, or even close to a testiness there. “It is also not something that I have exactly explored. And maybe I can’t say exactly where this...regret comes from. Perhaps...that is my regret. Or perhaps it is my regret that I’ve never fully been able to grasp what it means in light of what I am.” He considered. “You must understand. Halflings such as myself are very rare...extremely rare.” He paused again as if scrutinizing the ground in the idea, as if taking in things and images only he could see, could look towards, but not quite grasping them, not quite finding their edges in a full spectrum. “When we spoke during that particular dinner. That woman I told you about long ago...she was my mother.” He commented further, adding to the admission.

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Bill tried understanding, to comprehend it all. For once, there’s sympathy plastered onto his face as Ford spoke, a soft, lingering look that wished to reach out, though wasn’t exactly sure what for. How do you comfort a demon? Was it possible? There’s no tutorial for it. Only trial and error as he would approach the situation delicately and cautiously, like handling glass. “...Would you ever like me to help you explore this side?” Bill asked. The question itself surprisingly didn’t stem from his own selfish desires, but the genuine want to.. help. Bill kept surprising himself. “A mother. Wow. She must’ve been great. Do you remember anything about her? Lullabies? Food?”

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He seemed to continue to study the space beneath him, a certain distance there, a sort of distraction that met him to a different space entirely. A different life, maybe. The whispers of his body as well, those shifting threads of his nature, seemed unusually listless, unusually idle as he gazed against the floor. And his gaze lifted then, as if drawn carefully back to where he stood, studying the other in a very alien, maybe even an uncertain kind of way at the offer. 

But at the next part then he laughed there at the questions of his mother, tension and distraction lifting for a brief moment. “Ah. Oh yes...she was...something.” He gave a very slight, wry smile, “It’s been many, many eons since I’ve really, truly recalled too much about her properly however.” A still specific sort of smile met his face, an almost wistful thing, before he returned seemingly back to that odd distraction he’d held before, that misplaced distance, gaze seeming a bit more lost in thought. “Please understand...time...really does not have the same meaning in many other realms as it does in yours. And...well, for a brief lapse of time my brother and I were raised here...same as you, William. On earth. With my mother, as a human. I would say until we were at least...thirteen perhaps in your years? It would be my guess.” He admitted, still seeming fairly distracted, touching a different place there.

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“Well from the way you’re smiling, I’ll go ahead and assume she was a good woman, even if you might not be able to put bits and details together. Mothers tend to leave everlasting impressions.” And it was funny, really, imagining a younger Ford fumbling with his footing, learning to draw and write and speak. He imagined a woman, one where her face wasn’t visible, gently cupping the face of a younger demon and gracing his forehead with a loving kiss. How domestic. He laughed. Loudly, but authentic. “Thirteen! And she managed that all by herself? Do you know if she’s still alive?”

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He actually grinned somewhat differently at the comment, a meaker thing almost, chuckling. “I...yes, I suppose she would be. In the frame of your timeline, of this reality, I imagine she would still be alive.” He considered it, looking down and going so far as to even rub at the back of his neck, a tick, an almost unconscious thing, somehow a bit unnaturally human for him. A bit less towards his usual more carefully guided stoic self. “And do you know I actually learned to play D, D and more D here on earth. As a child, I always loved it.” He confessed, still smiling, “Though I will admit I could never get Stanley to play.” He laughed a bit at that, “He was very much like you in many ways, back then, I believe. In...some ways at least.”

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“Is that so?” Bill tilted his head, jotting the gestures and expressions down in his memory. A few hearts floated above his head. Actual, cartoonish hearts that appeared and popped, repeating its pattern each time. Bill doesn’t even look aware of it. “‘My mother would’ve crucified me for even looking in that game’s way,” he commented lightly. “Though yours? From what I’m seeing here, I think we should find her. And I think you should speak with her before this horrible, horrible short lifespan of a human gets to her.”

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Ford didn’t seem to see the hearts dotting cartoonishly over Bill’s head, still his hand running against his neck in what could even possibly be mistaken for a sheepish fashion maybe, glancing off, the many eyes above his head lidded and distracted, as if in thought or some space of distance. But he was still grinning there in apparently fond memories, though tensed abruptly all the same at the suggestion, hand slowly pulling away. “I…” And he paused then, faltering for a single moment rather uncharacteristically. 

And why hadn’t he sought her out before? That was simple, he recalled to himself. He was a demon. She was a human. It made very little sense to bother with humans in such a way. At least that is what he had told himself. Time made a new being of him. Also something he had often told himself. It was surprising as he finally turned to consider the other, how rather suddenly he didn’t hold his usual voice to the answers he always had. Something in him seeming to waver somewhat, the flicks of shadow clear, distinct in their uncertainty. His expression too seeming a bit more human to touch on concern. “I...do not know if that would be wise.” He finally said, a slight hesitancy to the tone.

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“Ford, you know. I can’t lie. You have me beat on pretty much everything imaginable, but I think here is where my territory is when it comes between you and me.” Bill gestured as he spoke, clearly somewhat passionate. “Do you know how many people would sacrifice everything just to get the chance of seeing their mothers again? The one person in the world who’s supposed to care for you unconditionally?” Definitely passion behind those words, even as his eyes searched around, somewhat at a loss for words. “If I had a mother that was.. was halfway decent as yours, I’d search land and sea for her. You’re missing out on an opportunity you might not get back!”

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Ford actually seemed to hesitate at this, a rather almost unreadable expression at his face as his eyes met Bill’s and his clear passion. Rather than be offended at the forwardness of the other, even the claim that he knew more on certain subjects, he seemed to pause instead, to soften almost, still a thin, barely definable layer of apprehension shifting there beneath his surface. “Bill...you must understand. The conditions we left were...not ideal. And I certainly did not appear like this.” He commented, a strain of something uneasy still held there, perhaps in some part to convince Bill more than himself of the manner in which seeking out a mother he had not seen in ancient millennia was a fool’s idea. “When we were young, it became rather obvious what we were after time. Inevitably. Many folks in the town...well, I will just say things did not turn well in the end. It may be very difficult to harm my brother and me now in the same manners, but it was not so back then.” He confided. “Dare I say it, if it hadn’t been for a certain individual in our lives at the time…” His voice trailed off.

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“Different times now.” Persistent. As much as he could be. Bill already had the vision in place, being a lovely reunion for the both of them, a rekindle of a relationship once lost. Mothers still loved their kids even after so many years, didn’t they? He wasn’t sure if he was projecting again, wanting to see that fantasy to compensate for something else. It would be pathetic, if so. A crutch in his personality, too weak to even consider. “Townspeople have never been the nicest! Even to normal, two-eyed regulars. It’s how we are. Simply judgmental off the basis of looks and interests. But this should be a driving passion to see her! To push all it aside!” Definitely compensating. “Certain individual? Well, look at you now. Surely that doesn’t matter anymore.”

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Still he seemed to pause, still he seemed to linger on an air of something almost fretful. He held his arms behind his back in an automatic fashion, a normal stance for him, gaze clouded by the whites of his glasses. To return to see his mother. It was a...bold idea. One he hadn’t particularly touched on. Caught in the endless cosmos, it had hardly crossed his mind but to be dismissed. If he were to go, what would that say about him? He couldn’t even fathom what Stanley would say if he found out. The anger there, certainly. “Yes, well…” Another pause, another tug of very slight, hardly recognizable turmoil on his still, collected features. “...Perhaps. Perhaps that would be a fair idea, a notion to...consider.” He seemed again to take it the idea in, taking a breath. “And, well, yes. Yes, a certain...well, simply someone from my childhood.” He seemed distracted then, mind on his mother, even if it pulled to that particular individual. “Dare I say it that man saved our lives quite a few times. It’s been eons now, far too long, however...strange, really.” He paused, frowning deeper but shook it for the time being. His eyes finally moved, chin tilting up to meet Bill’s gaze. “If I go. You would have to assist me.” It was another point to be had, but also somewhat of a give to the other’s insistence. He could hardly summon himself, bound to the tomes and circles he rose out from. What was more, even as a being of ultimate knowledge, picking through his mother’s whereabouts...

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“Of course. You sound hesitant, but I’m telling you I just have this.. this great feeling in my gut thinking about this. And if it doesn’t go great,” Bill held up his left arm, dangling it. “I’ll let you chop this bad boy off and keep it as a souvenir. A relic of the future god of chaos before he went even more insane.” Bill looked.. pretty damn happy. Happier than he should be, cheeks aching, a slight tint of red dusted across his face and eyes wide. It’s almost innocent, in a way. If that word could ever be applied to him.

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He eyed the other, but there was a slight smile there, one of a familiar kind of amusement by now. “Well. I suppose that would be some trophy.” He agreed, with the slightest note of that same humor, arms still folded albeit somewhat tensely behind his back. “Alright. Well. I suppose it can’t be helped. If you think you could...perhaps help me find her. Bring the book there, it...couldn’t hurt.” A waste of time he would’ve once dismissed it as. Frivolous. Indulging for no reasons, logical or otherwise. Even insulting in a way. To almost bow himself to the power of a human. To indulge in things that had no place in demons as himself. Stanley would surely be disgusted with him. Mortified. He would never hear the end of it from his brother. It was too, for a creature that basked in sensibility, in true wisdom, something that made very little sense. What was some woman, some mortal he’d known trillions of years past in light of where he stood now? 

Somehow he seemed apprehensive though and the thoughts didn’t seem to hold quite as much power over him in light of this. And still, he was giving that slightest of a smile. “Her name was Caryn Romanoff Pines. I suppose she would be in her sixties by now.”

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“Caryn. Cute name! I like it.” This would either go horribly, or a sweet reunion that somehow got him closer to getting inside Ford’s metaphorical pair of pants. And heart, most importantly. “Are you excited? Because I am! Never envisioned myself meeting my future husband’s parents. Treading new territory here, Ford. I’ll even bake her a pie before we meet up.” There’s a romanticization there of the situation. In general, Bill normally didn’t meet other people’s parents, nonetheless express interest. In the next second, belatedly, like everything came crashing down at once, he blinked. “Wait— Pines? Ha, is that a coincidence here with Pine Tree’s name?”

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“With...Mason?” He asked belatedly, a slight tone of distracted curiosity to him. “I...must admit, I am not sure. It is not an entirely uncommon name though I wouldn’t think.” These details hadn’t been worth exploring to him once upon a time to say one way or another. “And I think I would prefer it if we went on a more...perhaps professional basis.” A note of still hesitance reached him, as if not entirely sure where he would stand when they approached this woman. Or even the ideas behind appropriate familial contact. His current dynamic with Stanley was shaky at best, and he was really the only family he was in contact with at all.

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Bill’s face deflated slightly, like a child having his dreams shot down immediately after being told they’re headed to Disney Land. There was some unwanted emotions at the suggestion; Bill was, at some point, very numbed to acting formal around family members. That’s not something he wished to return to, but this was different. This wasn’t his family. It was Ford’s. “Ah, okay. Professional. Right. I could do that. Don’t want to embarrass you right off the bat. I tend to get rambly.”

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“It’s...simply as I...have no real idea how she would…” He tried to express the thought without finishing entirely, fingers tapping against his other hand as his arms remained behind his back. “A human life is...very fleeting. However, it would make sense if she were to…” He tried again, seeming to fade against the ideas. “...not perhaps wish to remember this aspect of it. I cannot know what to expect.” Demons were not well looked upon in this world, not when they were living there among the masses. And the thought had occurred of course, that perhaps him and Stanley, even their father, was something she would have wished to remain...buried.

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“That’s true.” Bill chewed on the inside of his mouth, mulling it over, his eyes trailing elsewhere. “So.. are you nervous? Is that even a thing you experience? That horrible butterfly feeling in your gut where you get all sweaty and frantic. Can’t say I’m nervous much anymore! Scratch that— I do get a little nervous when you use that one tone with me, but that’s because I find it overwhelmingly attractive and have to actively restrain myself from acting out.” 

Again, with the coping, though he’s not really sure what he’s coping over at this point in time. It’s only to divert that strange feeling, to shake free of its grasp.

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After all their time together, Stanford was used to the other’s rants and momentary distractions. He hummed a bit. “I would not call it...nervousness.” Apprehension maybe. Or awareness. Or...perhaps something that called to him, down beneath the smooth surface of the trillions of eons that had built him to what he’d become. Had siphoned out all remnants of humanity, yet there, in the depth of him, remained a small piece. Squirming against the tides. “I assume I will be able to...rely on you to gather this information?” Rather ironically enough, if Ford had wanted Bill to gather any information for him, to do anything in assistance for him, it would have been an easy task, considering their deal. However, that was not how their relationship worked. And in all their time together, the demon had never once approached or demanded anything of Bill.

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“Yes! I have you know, before I settled down in this hick of a space, I dabbled in stalking.” That’s not the greatest thing to admit, though most of this talent shined throughout his ventures with Dipper. How Bill could easily track something down, stalk it, and wait for the right time, but his actual experience lied within the younger years of his life. “Don’t know if you mingled with drug dealers before, but I had a few jobs here and there. This should be in my level of expertise, I assure you.”

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“I...can quite easily say I have not.” He stated, but seemed to ease somewhat in the usual nonsense that came there from the other. Much of what Bill was referring to he didn’t particularly have a grasp on in any fundamental way. He supposed he understood the nature of drugs, the abuse of which, and certain roles that played in the society at large. But more over, his attention was always better held elsewhere. “And good...excellent. In that case, I suppose we will simply wait to see what you have found...and go from there.” He said decisively, as if the matter had been taken care of, yet still not entirely sure where to place this slight apprehension that had taken to him.

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“Y’know,” Bill said, crossing his arms, seemingly amused by this whole situation. He would have to simply pull up a browser and google the woman’s name, or simply locate a phone book. It might go smoothly, it might not. “Everyday I feel like we get an inch closer to understanding each other better. It’s nice! Can’t tell if it’s the literal bond we share or if it’s an ACTUAL bond, if you get what I’m saying here.”

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“Hm…” A twitch of a smile met there and he continued to hold his posture, even as he considered the other collectively. “One does wonder.” A familiar note of humor met the words, though he looked a bit appreciative of the human all the same. To achieve this on his own would have been...tedious. And frankly, if Bill hadn’t been the one to nudge him into it, he never would’ve bothered in the first place. 

He seemed to shift then, bringing his hands out in front of him. “Though dare I say it, I feel as if I’ve distracted us from the matters at hand. There is still some time left here Bill before you wake.”

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“It seems there is. You’ve given me much already tonight, and I believe I know what direction I want to take. Thank you.” Bill flashed a grin, then, a little unexpectedly, extended his arms out, having to remember Ford probably didn’t know what to do with that information. In itself it was a little vague. Eventually, he elaborated. “I think this calls for-“ Bill faked an exaggerated gasp. “Our first hug. A milestone. Hopefully something you’ll share with your mother as well.”

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A...hug? An embrace. Ford stared at the other, head tilting slightly in a slight uncertainty, a sort of curiosity lingering. At mentions of his mother, he found he wasn’t entirely certain what to think of the words or the image conjured there. But something touched just beneath the surface, long, long ago abandoned to the eons and far forgotten. “You...are aware that this is risky, right?” He said, in regards to the chaotic smoothly moving aspects of him, the chaotic eyes that met Bill’s through the harth of darkness enveloping him. Yet there too was that same still familiar humor that often came between them to his tone, a light thing, a slight and gentle note. In reality, he did not think it to be any real danger at this point in their relationship.

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“You’re aware I would willingly let you gouge in my eyeballs, right?” It’s said jokingly, probably. Hopefully. Bill was feeling oddly affectionate, unable to enact what he truly wanted(which, surprisingly, was a lot less sexual than he anticipated). The slower road to introductions on human gestures will do for now. The tutorial for romancing a demon was still in process, though lately there’s been a halt on progress, mostly due to the obsession of managing his researches on the portal. “Risk is the fun. Feel free to crush me.”

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“Alright.” He found himself still with a hint of a smile, “It sounds to me as if you find it worth the risks...” Again a more humored tone came, whether or not they had authenticity behind them was another thing as he stepped forward and brought his arms out as well to the other. 

As his arms came around he found it was...an awkward thing. But one he at least tried to touch into. The feelings, those lingering, barely reaching ideas still stirred in him somehow from mentions of his mother and he used them as a...guide of sorts. An anchoring. Bringing his arms around the other felt...strange. Odd, wrong. Awkward. A bit clunky in certain ways, but as he pulled Bill in like that, as the darkness seemed to fester and bloom through him to touch against the space between them, as a more animalistic nature teemed and writhed beneath the surface, he did his best to remain still in it. Even as the slytherings of tendrils reared outward, drawing out to wrap at the other’s waist and throat there was a...lingering of something too beneath it. Warmer, perhaps that he hadn’t particularly expected. And too that ebb, that trickle, that single form of something toward emotion seemed to tickle there at him against the calm, allowing him to relax just slightly, almost unnoticeable into the touch, rather than for it to be entirely awkward and stiff and fully uncertain. 

He could honestly admit to not knowing where this led to with something such as himself. Or what to do in it. Or even the reasons as to why. It was an odd thing. A bizarre thing. Just like Cipher. Exactly like his human. A certain teeming still danced beneath the surface, a hunger from the shifting features of the tendrils, still exploring new ground at the other’s touch, so in contrast to himself in that moment, as if vipers on the prey.

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Even Bill found himself struggling to adjust, the odd, weird feeling of tendrils pressed up against him as they embraced one another, his own arms snaking around Ford loosely to provide wriggle room. It was nice, even then. He could see past the more human instincts practically begging him to part, step away and place ten feet between them in order to preserve his life. Though Bill was pleased regardless, pressing his face against Ford’s shoulder, eyes closed with a stupid smile stretched across in pure content. Those cartoonish hearts had reappeared, a tad annoying as they floated aimlessly up above into nothingness. It certainly wasn’t anything he experienced before. Not with Dipper, his now ex-friends of the past, family, or that random stray dog he had once hugged when nine years old. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing ever, either. He didn’t expect it to be, but, once again, he found himself enjoying the moment for what it’s worth. A stepping stone to more interactions to come between them— something he had been patiently waiting on for a while.

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It was still such a strange thing. Still so strange for him as he kept his arms awkwardly where they were, as he felt the weight and heaviness of Bill against his constantly shifting body that seemed to ease, to give to it somehow. Too in that moment, as it always did when they touched, their bond, their connection reached through them like an undercurrent, a magnet of two energies that met to a single space, something cool and cold and impossible to quantify. The touch of him too was in that same thread of coolness, unworldly, the shadows that enveloped him washing over the human against it and he found himself curious to the warmth the other held. It was an odd thing too, being touched in a way he wasn’t sure he could recollect. Very strange, even curious, the dancing of tendrils continuing to play at Cipher’s skin, an alien, festering thing that seemed to want for more. For once in his ageless existence, he continued to feel out of his depth, somehow standing there against the sea of something he couldn’t quite grasp onto. Not in the way he could on almost anything else. He felt...lost in it. 

He decided to allow Bill to be the one to act as a guide in the manner, remaining there, expression unreadable as the other’s arms continued to wrap around him, to radiate a certain sense of warmth that too pulled him back to their connection, to everything that lay there in the waters of it. This was certainly nothing his past disciples had ever asked for. Nothing that any human had vied for in his time, a thing he more over only observed from a distance, in light of a being cataloging in a detached, calculated understanding. The reality of it felt...different than he’d expected. Strangely more inexplicable.

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There’s few times where he found himself comfortably bathing in silence with someone, and being pressed up against a demon, his partner and mentor, happened to be one of those rare occasions. After some time, however, Bill did break the silence, but had yet to pull away. Perhaps the more uncontrollable parts of his body could be felt aside from the warmth. The increase of his heartbeat, how it thumped rhythmically against his ribcage. How his chest gently rose and fell, his breath, a more less noticeable aspect of it all, but there as he remained close. All of it human, fragile. Capable of being stripped away if Ford chose to, easily holding Cipher’s life in his hands. An unusually personal and more dangerous experience. Bill couldn’t label it if he tried. “How is it?” He asked eventually, voice muffled, vibrations against Ford’s shoulder as he spoke. “Nice, right?”

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It was...strange. Softer in ways he couldn’t properly define. And very odd, these subtleties. The gentle beating of the human’s heart, a rhythmic pulse of it there against his touch, felt at the tendrils of him, at his own chest. The weight of Bill’s head as it rested there, heavy and warm at his shoulder. The gentle breath against his neck, a certain calm in it, an unfathomable thing that he both couldn’t describe and couldn’t reach for in his wealth of ageless knowledge. Something almost connecting. And bizarrely...even strangely grounding. He was finding too the longer they held there, the less uncomfortable and awkward it became in certain ways. It allowed him to almost subconsciously give more to the space, relax if just slightly, the time continuing to spread between them, drawing the touch out, all the while his shadows danced, writhing, but in a more calm, relaxed fashion. 

“...It is...not what I expected.” He admitted then, a slight hesitancy in his voice.

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“And what did you expect?” Bill was curious. Patient. Initially he assumed the demon didn’t enjoy being this close, that it only felt as some mockery or cheap joke. But, at least from what he was feeling, he happened to be wrong in that regard. “It’s supposed to feel and warm and safe. Y’know what I’m getting at here, right?”

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He did not believe it met those ideas. No. Maybe, perhaps the warm aspect...but it was odd. Safe? What a strange word to describe the situation. The human was far from safe, on a relatively speaking manner. There were still risks, inherent ones, notable ones, ones he had no issues exposing the human too if it was his choice to do so. 

“I am not entirely sure.” He replied honestly. “Something...far more detached, perhaps.” Because this did not feel detached at all. “Without meaning.” That phrase seemed to touch his tongue and prove true somehow. Detached, as if the simple way you held a book or wielded an object. A connection there, but...quantifiable, abstract, meaningless aside from the objectivity of it. But this wasn't what it felt like.

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“Hurtful.” Bill huffed, though honestly expected nothing different. Finally, he pulled away, though not entirely as he allowed his touches to linger. It’s strange, quite honestly, but strange didn’t always necessarily mean bad. “It means the world to me,” he continued, trying his best not to sound too desperate. By then, he supposed it didn’t matter much. It’s the reason he smiled, giving Ford a quick once over. “So you don’t like it? That’s what I’m getting at here.”

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That slight grin pulled on his face once again, a tug of just the barest amusement there. “No, that is...not quite what I meant. Understand, Cipher, this is not something I am particularly familiar with.” It was an explanation, simple as that, even as Bill pulled away and that energy was almost broken, lost beyond the hands that remained there. Still a subtle pull, draw between them. He observed the other, still the lingering of heat and whispers of that space against his great form. Very strange. Very unexpected in its own way. He wondered if there was some space in that which called back to being...mortal. An animal. Human, on some small part. “I meant to say it is...not quite the same as the form of touch I would expect when...taking hold of something.” Did he...like it? There again was an oddity in the question. He tilted his head. “Honestly, Cipher, I am not sure I can answer that. It is...a very new concept.” That was all he gave to that idea.

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“That’s alright then. We’re dipping you in like a virgin.” Probably the worst comparison to make, but in retrospect, there was some truth in it. “Gotta smoothen out the kinks you dislike, gotta amplify the ones you do. Which is why we should hug more often. Practice. And an excuse for me to touch you more, if you want me to be honest. Your body, in the nicest way possible, is the strangest thing I’ve ever touched.” It would leave lingering effects, that was for sure.

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He raised a stark brow, looking the other over with some subtle lingerings of amusement, a careful and calm thing. “Practice.” He repeated easily, though still smiled somewhat. “I...suppose it is an interesting concept. I can’t say I understand the concept or...even quite the appeal. However, it can’t hurt. Perhaps it will eventually enlighten me on my…” He hesitated, “...more...human aspects.” He considered, before his eyes met the other’s again, “Though I must warn you, I am still a being of fettering chaos and can never quite guarantee your safety, Cipher.”

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Oh. Ford agreed. It was only a joke, but Bill would take what he could get in these trying times of family reunions and growth stunts on research. Bill brought his hands down, more or less intentionally ghosting his hand across one of the tendrils. Fascinating in a threatening way. A small laugh bubbled up his throat. “I think if we keep you relaxed, all will go well. It’s a shame that you don’t find this..” Bill searched for a word, still looking Ford over. “As pleasurable as I do. Maybe you get your kicks a different way. Hopefully something that’s enjoyable for both parties.”

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Ford didn’t seem to note the manner in which Bill’s eyes tracked over his form, simply standing, his arms now returned behind his back in a more proper fashion as he considered the mortal. “I find my pleasure in research and the obtaining and deciphering of knew and powerful knowledge, Bill. Nothing else.” Again it was said in an honest, impartial way, yet the smile lingered there in some amusement regardless, a lighter tone to it. He didn’t quite bother to resist the touches either, the tendril lifting, sliding gently against Bill’s outstretched hand in a fluid and unnatural movement as the other ones continued to sway and shift. They did not seem to hold that chaotic energy that often surrounded the demon, violent or restless or dangerous just beneath the surface of him. “In the meantime, should we discuss furthering your research? Or are you ready to turn in for now?”

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“Nothing else for now. That human side has to come around some time.” Almost a promise of sorts. Actually, it was, but hopefully not on Bill’s degree as he derived a degenerative satisfaction off the tendril merely grazing him. His face was already hot. Typical by this point. He grabbed his collar, fanning himself. “I think we’re done for today. I have a few things I need to finish, but rest assured I’ll come back earlier tomorrow! Not that you keep up with days, as I have to keep reminding myself.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That seemed unlikely. An interesting and even...drawing concept, his human half, a curiosity, certainly one he didn’t mind delving into even if it was so out of reach from him. So far he’d only ever done it at a distance in living at the edge of the rise and fall of humanity’s struggles. A third party observer. “Do...also tell me if you find anything on my mother.” He mentioned, albeit there was again a slight of hesitancy there before he nodded to the other, a slight of that same earlier unease reaching through to him. “But very well. I will see you here tomorrow, Bill. Do also remember what we spoke about earlier about the path you wish to take. I believe the next time you arrive it would be good to practice your offensive techniques. Best too to come in physical form.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t worry, I will. To both of those.” With, perhaps, some of Dipper’s help after he finished having a one-on-one session, which would consist of him yelling at the kid until everyone is exhausted. Bill passed Ford a wink, then a pair of finger guns as he took his leave. His schedule hasn’t been this clustered in a long while, and, honestly, it was a refreshing mix up in comparison to his life before Ford entered it. Though once stirred awake, seeming to have fell on the floor with blankets tangled in his legs, he rolled over, taking a glance at the clock. 3AM. Perfect timing, as always. 

Bill snatched up his keys, and not even within five seconds later, he’s already at the front door like a cryptic within the night, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he shifted into “dad mode.” A recent mood he had created, entirely copyrighted.


	9. Woes of the Substitute Parent

Dipper, like any sensible person at 3am, was fast asleep. 

A rare event, really, actually shocking as usually in this hour he was either hammering over and scrutinizing details on where he could run to next for his stretch of research, what proverbial door he could knock on or push down, what part of the forest he could trek into, what creature he could summon, leaving Mabel to sigh and look at him with a terse pout as he refused to share the finer details of his work. 

“ _ Meow, meow, meow _ .” She mimicked him as he’d paced, going over idea after idea in a bit of manic stride, eyes moving against the brown pin board on the other side of the wall buried with string that connected a lot of obscenely complex details that he’d strategically thrown a D, D, and more D related castle scenery over whenever Bill came by to keep the other from really knowing the depths of his whole research. “ _ Mabel _ , this is serious!” He’d grit out, and she’d scrunched up her eyebrows and thinned the line of her mouth as she hung, held upside down, over the other side of the bed.

“Dip-Dop, I love ya bro-bro...Come on, I really do. But this is crazy. Stop being a paranoid goof all the time.” Right. Easy for  _ her to say. _ Mabel never hung around the house anymore. Or got into these kind of supernatural scenarios. Ever since the years ago, since...what happened...ever since they’d become teenagers...his thoughts came to a halt at that. Instead he just shot her a dark look, feeling frazzled and drained. 

“I’m not being paranoid!” He insisted defensively, a flail of his arms thrown against the air as if to prove the point to which she’d looked at him with puffed out cheeks, carefully and strategically putting on her well known and, with him widely used “skepticals,” fingers coming in to a circle on each hand to mimick glasses rather slowly. “I’m  _ serious _ Mabel, I...I think I’m finally onto something. I think this could be big!”

“Hooookay, Dipster. You know, I don’t get why you don’t just talk to Bill about this.” 

“ _ I’ll talk to Bill about this alright _ .” He grunted offhandedly under his breath, slightly in a huff as his sister hung a bit too far and landed with a thump on her head on the floor. He ignored her and studied the board more like a manic super villain than anything plausibly wholesome hearted, all the while Waddles squealed at the side at Mabel’s spitting out of her hair and disheveled sweater of a self. 

That whole disaster had been...well, a typical night. At least when Mabel was  _ here _ , which she hardly ever was anymore these days. Somewhere along this night,  _ somehow _ , miraculously he’d actually managed to pull away from his usual obsessive line of work. Texting into the relatively late hours with Pacifica to offhandedly complain, or as much as he could with her without being so direct, about his research ideas and be given snarky responses in reply which seemed to ease his anxieties enough to actually pass out, soundly snoring against the darkness of the hour, pin up board still spread out on the wall, graphs and notes scattered rather like a mad man’s all across his side of the room. 

You know, like a normal person. A totally sane, totally normal kind of person.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill, who was nowhere near normal and would claim insanity with pride, had much more destructive plans regarding the peaceful Pines household. There’s no stealth. In fact, stealth was entirely thrown out the window once “dad mode” was introduced, his recently created parental instincts calling for desperate measures. With a terrifying ease of hefting himself up onto the top floor with a crooked array of logs, chairs, and impressive leaps, Bill re-enacted a horror film as he punched his fist through the bedroom window. He was entirely unbothered by the shards sticking into his flesh and knuckles, causing a decently-sized bloody mess that stained his shirt. “DIPPER!” He screeched, enraged, squeezing through the window despite the rips and tears to his clothing. His jump down was  _ loud, _ just about as disruptive as his glass shattering punch that surely fractured a bone or two. 

“PINE TREE ARE YOU SUMMONING?! ARE YOU SUMMONING?!” It truly was a horror. A thin figure slipping through busted glass, unblinking eyes trained on the very bed Dipper laid, like a creature stalking his prey. He  _ would _ be catching a charge tonight, but some things are worth sacrificing for the sole good of the people. He’s thinking of the  _ kids, _ would be the defense in court.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper snorted, startling awake the instant the glass shattered above his head with a yell, a shocking course of adrenaline shooting in a jolt through him. 

“HOLY HAM AND BALONEY!” Mabel’s voice shot out soon after as she fell off the other side of her bed, thumping against the floor and vanishing from view, all the while he was left flailing and spinning on himself in a tangled heap of blankets and struggling limbs before also finding his way slamming to the ground. He kept fighting, practically tied head to toe in the blanket, snapping his eyes up in a pit of frantic, horrified panic as glass shards flew and an ungodly yell shook the house. 

Everything in him froze then as its remnants lingered there almost promising death. Dipper was suddenly paling, going entirely white, more awake now than he’d ever been in his life. And as he stared up at Bill, undoubtedly  _ Bill _ in all his bloody and enraged glory, in his towering, angry and dark figure something of a squeak left his lungs and he felt all at once, 100%, absolutely, utterly  _ fucked. _ How much he messed up just reeled in that tone, in that form, in that demeanor, and never before, not even with his  _ own parents _ had he felt such a surge, such a deer in the headlights of  _ oh fuck. _ Oh boy. Oh man. Holy  _ crap. _

“BILL--I--I--I-IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK--” He squeaked then, scrambling out of the confines of the blankets and back against the side of the bed’s frame, quick on the defensive, raising his hands in what he hoped to god was a passive gesture, feeling the dread and shock and turmoil as if his dad had just caught him sneaking drugs into the house along with a newly pregnant girlfriend, tensing and wincing all at once in the reality of the thought. Mabel just plopped her arms out onto the frame of her bed, squinting half asleep and entirely disoriented in their direction. 

“Bill?” She asked mutedly, a sleepy confusion there, apparently not exactly in on the uptake at all.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill nearing Dipper like a crazed animal once he was done floundering probably hadn’t helped either, especially as he leaned over, poking Dipper harshly into his chest with an index finger. Blood dribbled onto the sheet, unfortunately so. 

“DO YOU WANT TO  _ DIE _ ?!” It was an actual question, at first, though he mostly wanted Dipper to shut the fuck up and listen to him make his point. Hence why he resorted to grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking him like a maraca. “KID, YOU TELL ME RIGHT NOW THAT YOU’LL STOP! TELL ME RIGHT FUCKING NOW YOU’LL STOP BEING A DUMBASS—“ in the most mentally unstable way possible, Bill briefly turned his head, expression resorting to a horrifying quick twist, something short of sweet. “Hi, Shooting Star. You look lovely today. Is that bubblegum perfume I smell? Absolute taste.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

His eyes went wide and absolutely panicked, blown to saucers as somewhere in the distance Waddles squealed a storm, tensing and spluttering worthlessly into the hard jab and the death grip as the other shook him like a rag doll, trying to work out his voice until he was shut up entirely by the yelling. He squeaked again, but more frantic, frozen in some glitch of fight or flight. “FINE--I--OKAY I-I WON’T SUMMON ANYMORE!  _ I WON’T SUMMON ANYMORE _ \--” He cut himself off in the shaking, disorientation as Mabel from the corner peered over to them. 

“UuuuuhhhhHmmmm.” Her eyes squinted at the scene, as if debating either running over to cut off the horror show, or to let it play out long enough to see where Bill was going with it. To Dipper’s horror, at least in the moment, Mabel tended to have a better grasp on Bill’s manic, chaotic nature, and seemed in  _ most _ cases entirely right there on board with them. But also in the relief of it, she was never one to shy from saving her brother’s butt when things got  **_serious,_ ** regardless of the situation. He wasn’t sure whether to be mortified or feel relieved that she didn’t seem to think  _ this _ ,  **_this_ ** warranted serious as Bill stood there bloody and horrifying. Apparently worth  _ further observation _ as she squinted suspiciously, mouth a familiar thin line, hand creeping to her familiar grappling hook.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Pine Tree, you look at me. Look at me in the eye right now.  _ Look _ into my soul.” Bill closing the distance between them was worse, nose to nose, eyes widened, his eyebrows dipped in irritation. “You need to get  _ serious. _ My husband, the love of my life, the apple of my  _ goddamn _ eye, should not be notifying me that you’re out here putting your  _ little _ life in danger. That’s right! You got snitched on!” It wasn’t so much as snitching, only Ford stating something throughout the conversation. Bill was fairly sure he wouldn’t exactly mourn the kid, but getting hit with their recent conversations might change that sooner than later. “Are you listening? Huh? Promise me! Promise me right now that you won’t ever dip your little hands into the world of demons again! I don’t care for what reason!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Ho- _ whoa _ , there cowboy.” Mabel finally interrupted, piping up then with a bit of a nervous laugh, her smile in place as she held her hands to her hips in an easy gesture as if to pacify the situation from behind her bed. “Now...listen, I know my bro-bro is crazy. But come on. Do you really think he’d be summoning demons and all that kind of crazy nonsense?” Her eyes looked off with a light chuckle as if the idea were just  _ absurd _ and far too silly, before pausing, cheeks somewhat puffed as she squinted off suspiciously. “ _ Hooo _ -kay, yeah, I can kind of see what you’re talking about.” 

“MABEL!” 

“What! Come on bro-bro, you gotta admit, this here?” She gestured to his side of the room and the obvious pictures of pentagrams and the sort plastered at the board, “It’s lookin’ preeeeettyyy suspicious.” 

“GAH, SERIOUSLY!? WHO’S  _ SIDE ARE YOU ON! _ ” He cried in a certain terrified desperation, before his eyes turned back to Bill, wincing visibly. “I--I...ugh, Bill, you...you just  _ don’t understand _ why I’m…” Mabel puffed her cheeks harder in a judgemental, concerned way, squinting her eyes over at him in an almost equal suspicion of disapproval. It seemed entirely obvious that she’d come around on  _ some _ level to Bill’s side, at least in the levels of him risking his life. He hesitated, flashing a panicked look between them. “O-Okay. Okay. Okay, I...I promise. No more demons. Not ever. For any reason.” He let out shakily, wincing into the still far too dangerous look Bill had settled over him.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“That’s my boy. Now if you do it again, I’m going to break your fingers. Not to where they’re forever  _ impaired, _ but it will be very painful to snap them back into place!” Truthfully, he wouldn’t. Not everyone was numbed to popping things out their sockets. Last resorts might call for it though. If you can’t reach them words, then reach them with the greatest motivator: pain. Bill ruffled Dipper’s hair. It’s as wholesome as one could be with glass lodged between the skin inside their fingers, blood now dried on the side of his palm, specifically the one he’s using to express affection. Disgusting, quite frankly. “I was worried! I thought I had to kidnap you and tie you to a tree! Let you dry out for a week or two!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper let out a small, barely decipherable squeak at Bill’s words, retreating into the ground and himself at them. By his expression it was obviously believed Bill 100% and paled a whole new shade of white, contrasting to the bits of blood Bill has managed to splash on him from the glass shattering fiasco. 

Mabel meanwhile scrutinized Bill, now side glancing him with a very narrowed look indeed, as if telepathically telling him, without being intimidated  _ somehow at all _ by the absolute horror show that was occurring, just what sorts of things she’d do to  _ him _ if he even attempted to do any of that. Dipper could not even manage a chuckle or anything of the sort, but for his efforts he tried for a smile that didn’t quite make it, more of a grimace, somehow voice muted still by the threats. 

“Glad...glad we avoided that then.” He said in a similar squeak, voice just as tight, but smile somehow forcing itself into a strangulating space. 

“Heck...You know, Bill. We don’t lock our window.” Mabel informed him then, seeming to feel decently satisfied in the lack of real injury to him to scoop up her pig the best she could in his now massive girth.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“How else was I supposed to traumatize him?” Bill asked, looking over his shoulder. The infamous grin came to be, both eyebrows raised as he passed Mabel an amused look. “I’ve hit him with the best method of drilling into a point.” Bill raised a hand, beginning to count. “One, element of surprise! Caught him in his most vulnerable moment, so now it’ll forever stick. Two, scared him. It’ll double stick. Three? The night I’ll get arrested since I can’t possibly make that jump out the window without breaking my ankle! Triple sticking!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“MMMMMMMMMmmmmmm.” Mabel considered the points, chewing at the inside of her cheek, still surveying Bill with a certain level of disapproval meanwhile Dipper spluttered beneath him. 

“A-Are you  _ serious _ ?” Dipper squeaked again, voice high and pitched in a fighting disbelief, a lot more like a girl’s than a teenage boy’s then. 

Apparently that in itself was a cue for the door to slam open all at once, a far too skinny man in his forties wielding a shotgun, out of breath with his wild, frazzled hair everywhere whirling into the scene. He was wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt, looking fierce and confused and shocked at the scene. 

“WHAT IN LORD’S NAME IS GOING ON HERE--!?” 

Oooooh no. Uncle Fiddleford. He grimaced again, heart leaping in through his throat, breath catching. 

“Uh. Slumber party?” His voice shook though even as he tried weakly, forcing a different kind of grimace of a grin in an uneasy fashion. Mabel too looked wide eyed and hasty.

“Practicing for our upcoming soap opera?” She regardless piped in, sounding a bit more believable in her tone if nothing else. 

Fiddleford stared in horrified disbelief, loading the gun but fumbling, looking for all the world too kind and gentle to be handling the large, bulky thing despite the situation, “ _ B-BILL, _ I swear to tarnation and idgets, I  _ told you _ not to come around these kids anymore--” The gun was not really...well, it wasn’t serious, despite the look of it. Fiddleford may have it, may even be threatening with it, but Dipper just had to doubt the man could kill a squirrel even with the proper shot. He was...well, too kind. That didn’t make him nervous though. He scrambled to his feet, knees feeling weak enough to almost collapse on himself again. 

“W-wait, uncle Fiddleford, this...it isn’t...what it looks like.” He was being hit with all kinds of shades of dejavu as he hastily waved his hands up, even in spite of being towered over by a bleeding and crazed looking older man, Waddles still squealing lightly off to the side.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Supposedly some more anxiousness should be attached to an older man barging into a child’s bedroom with a shotgun, even if it was specifically meant for him. Though the sight of Fiddleford already using his inexperienced fingers to fumble a proper bullet in left him with a surge of sympathy, almost. A threat was still a threat at the end of it all. Bill instantly narrowed his eyes, removing himself from the bed and walking over. Clearly a death wish, if not him once again demonstrating his lack of self-preservation. “You better make that shot count,” he challenged, already reaching to grab  _ directly _ at the barrel. “Better make it count! I’m comin’! Imma getcha! The big bad wolf!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“BILL, NO!” 

It had been the wrong move. Bill had underestimated Fiddleford’s love for them versus his clearly timid and gentle nature. Something dark and protective flashed in the man’s eyes and in the same instant Dipper was lunging, grabbing at Bill’s legs, ramming into the back of his knees to collapse him into the ground just as the gun went off almost point blank. 

It was deafening. 

The crack so loud it thundered, breaking through the room, ringing shrill and impossibly painful in his ears, leaving a hole out against the window to shatter at the remaining glass. Mabel had dived behind her bed with a startled sound, eyes wide in shock with hands over her ears, Dipper clinging to Bill like a lifeline before throwing himself over him entirely. “WAIT,  _ WAIT _ \--” He yelled, but could barely hear anything from the shock of the shot, voice high pitched and desperate, doing his best to practically act as a shield for the blond headed man frantically.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You gonna—“ Bill fell over at the impact, chin painfully colliding with the wooden floor as the sound of the blast nearly blew his eardrums out, causing him to wince. Oh. He almost died then. A revelation that should have hit hard, but what comparison was this to the dangers lurking through the forest? Who was Fiddler to his soulmate that would murder him if disrespected enough? To anyone or anything else who tried taking his life, though apart of him still found some relief that the spray didn’t dig into his skin upon impact. Issuing an apology and display of appreciation later to Dipper might come awkwardly, if not in subtle little ways. 

He peeked up, some rage replacing the playful and life threatening attitude from mere seconds ago. “You piece of SHIT!” He exclaimed, half-tempted to toss the kid to the side and risk the shot, just to grasp the chance of socking Fiddleford in the mouth. “YOU’RE GOING TO MURDER ME IN FRONT OF CHILDREN? Act of evil! Degeneracy!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Now you listen closely here, Bill Cipher.” Fiddleford’s words were strangely calculative even as flushed as he had become, dangerous in the still ringing deafening stillness behind from shot, tone shaking even in the sudden very cold, sharp stillness that met his now oddly calmed hands, barrel directed Bill’s face after the blond man threw Dipper off of him, of whom looked panicked beyond words. “You are going to leave these kids be. Come with me, stay in the bathroom where I will lock you while I call the police, or I am going to send you to an early grave. You understand me?” His tone left no room for error, that fierceness of protective air still like steel in his eyes. 

Dipper looked and felt as if all blood had been drained from him, staring in wide eyed shock and desperation between Bill and his uncle, Mabel too peering over the edge of her bed in some amount of numb disbelief. Even Waddles had gone silent, leaving the room ringing there in the heated aftermath.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill gritted his teeth, nails digging into floor as eyes looked directly down the barrel. Compliance and Cipher didn’t mix well, and it especially mixed like oil and water once he was threatened. Bow to no man, huh. Easier to imagine vs being in a situation of death, where someone clearly had the upper hand. “You’re going to kill me?” He tested, a deep venom dripping from the words. “Gonna blow my brains out all over the floor in front of them? A dear ole friend? I’m going to bash your skull into a  _ fucking _ door, McGucket. And if it’s not in this life, I’ll get you in the next one.” 

God, was Bill the least negotiable person imaginable in such moments. It’s almost like he wanted to die, unable to drop his pride for the  _ smallest _ second. Where was the value? Where did it stop? When would he  _ ever _ care? It’s a question lost on him, and he believed this was what people referred to as someone’s life flashing before their eyes. He happened to be filtering through every significant scene.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper looked at Bill with the most disbelieving, horrified expression on his face, a look that _screamed_ **‘SERIOUSLY’?!**

But despite it Dipper slowly got to his feet and shifted, moving too slowly, carefully between Fiddleford, Bill, and the barrel. 

“U-Uncle Fiddleford. Please. Please. This-this really isn’t what it looks like.” His tone was caught tight, shaking and too haunted, standing there with the gun at his neck, staring it down, pale and shocked even at himself. 

“ _ Dipper _ , what--what in tarnation are you-- _ get down, _ ” The gun was turned away then in a panic as Dipper slid in front of it, a wild storm of concern flashing through the man’s eyes in panic and alarm. “You don’t know what you’re saying, get  _ away _ , get your sister and  _ get out of-- _ ” 

“No. No, please,  _ listen _ to me. He-he’ll go. Mabel was serious, we were...we were up here messing around. We were...we were hanging out and practicing that dumb game, but...we went too far. Bill fell into the window. I-” He hesitated, tone cracking, “I-...asked him to come late...so you wouldn’t know.” He wetted his lips, frantic gaze pleading between his godfather and towards Bill, begging silently for Bill to try and escape now while he could, gaze flashing to the man in that idea. “H-he’ll go. It’s my fault. I asked him to come.” And a pause, a very real desperation there. “He’s my  _ friend _ . Please.” 

Something somewhat gut wrenching reflected in Fiddleford’s eyes, a lone thing, studying Dipper’s form. 

“Dipper...please, listen to yourself. This man is crazy. He’s just a predator. Why are you defending him--you  _ have _ to see what he’s doing.” 

“Please. Please, just. Just let him leave. Please.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Even if the situation was mediated, Bill couldn’t forget this. Wouldn’t. Ever. And he wouldn’t let it slide easily. A gun meant game over. Everything he ever pointed at was shot and killed, meaning Fiddleford had all intent and purposes of  _ murdering _ him in front of Dipper and Mabel. He’s had his fair share of fucked up situations, but he’s never killed anyone in front of them. Never put that amount of trauma inside a kid’s laugh, and now Dipper was here, shaking, fumbling with his words as he had to take position of the reasonable one between two functional adults. A burning hatred was steadily cooking. 

He touched Dipper’s shoulder. A light touch. Possibly to serve as reassurance. “I’ll go,” he confirmed, a damn near.. deadly look coming from him. He wanted to kill Fiddleford. Strangle him until his dying breath. “I’ll leave without an issue.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Fiddleford looked conflicted. His eyes narrowing just as deeply, just as mistrusting in Bill’s direction, just as icy cold. For a young man in his 30s who seemed skittish and gentle at best, it was something. Truly something to draw this out. But it all meant something too. The children in front of him meant something. He had lived through what went bump in the night in Gravity Falls. He’d seen the darkest, deepest underbellies at one time, even been side by side with it, enough to drive him to a kind of madness. And there had always been something about Bill Cipher, about him that had struck him, almost on an instinctual level, in the same way that these creatures, these demons, these monsters had, all the way to the core of him. Something just under the surface there, ready to leap out and eat someone whole. 

Seeing Bill towering in the darkness, bleeding beyond a broken window over Dipper’s terrified form was enough to shake the fear of god into anyone. The fear for these kids. These kids that had lost their home, their family, and somewhere along the line, he’d found his old, paranoid heart to beat so much freely for, so much stronger and softer for. He couldn’t tell anyone what they’d come to mean to him these past years. And what sort of things he’d do and become to keep them safe and healthy, well and alive. His gun was no longer pointing at Bill, because to point at him would mean pointing at Dipper, instead off at the side in a clear desperation instead.

“Dipper,  _ listen to me _ . This is madness, can’t you  _ see _ that,” a twinge on his southern draw came strong, that desperation and a pleading tone lost in it. But his gaze lingered to Bill as he realized that there wasn’t any safe way out of this and...his first priority  _ had _ to be the twins. It had to be. His gaze darkened then all at once, anger festering instead, taking into him at this man being able to get any sort of hands on Dipper, any influence or sway. It made him realize he’d failed. He’d failed as their godparent. As any form of guardian. “...Get out.” He finally told Bill. Calling the cops would come after. “If you ever come on this property again, I will kill you Bill Cipher.” It was a promise, but one held in a fit of anger and shaken concern more than reality, a soft tremble coming from the small and thinly unseaming man’s voice. 

Dipper felt as if he could collapse in the sheer weight of relief. He glanced back meaningful at Bill as the man touched his shoulder, eyes still too wide, face still pale. He was too shaken to feel much else, eyes and expression still screaming there for the other to get out while he could. Something maybe behind there numb to the idea otherwise of what could’ve just happened without his interference.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“...Yes. That I will do.” Immortality couldn’t come quick enough. He rubbed Dipper’s shoulder, muttering that it’s alright, that this was nothing, and he’ll continue to live and thrive the following days. If he could avoid an arrest warrant, that is. Everyone knew where he lived, was the issue. How couldn’t they? He was a character that stuck out like a thumb, and his household did the same as well. As much as he hated authorities, he  _ really _ didn’t want to kill Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Edwin. They were morons that encompassed a sitcom of homoerotic romance in the flesh. It would be a shame to lose it all so early. 

Bill adjusted himself, eyes on Fiddleford the entire time. He took one step forward, slowly, headed for the doorway to make his leave.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper could do hardly anything but nod numbly at Bill’s words, feeling far too shocked as the other finally made to leave. 

And Fiddleford, for his part, didn’t falter. He took Dipper by the other shoulder as soon as Bill moved away, keeping his gun trained in some warning on Bill as he tried to push Dipper behind him, eyes like steel and coldly vivid with threat. He did catch that look. How could anyone possibly miss it? He’d seen it before. It was more than an animal. It was a demonic sort of thing, in his opinion. And Fiddleford? Fiddleford knew demons. Blood still in flecks and sprays over the other’s pale features, seeming to highlight a more demented, ravenous, horrifying appearance. Mabel somewhere at some point had come padding behind them as Fiddleford’s eyes continued to follow after Bill, waiting until he was certain the man had left.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It’s.. an eerie movement. The one belonging to a maniac, his strides slow until his figure disappeared down the hall, footsteps growing fainter and fainter as he made his way downstairs, staring off ahead of him. His fingers itched to grab something, anything by this point. To squeeze, rip through and stretch. He exhaled shakily, and when he finally reached the front door, he left, just like that, heading into the darker direction of the forest instead of the path that led to his household.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper looked after Bill’s retreating form as he left, still holding his breath, still trembling far too much and far too numb. Fiddleford would wait there in front of them, guarding defensively like a mother bear for some time before finally, finally starting downstairs, steady with his weapon, looking off into the open night before cautiously retreating to the kitchen to make the call. 

Meanwhile Dipper collapsed onto his bed, staring down dumb and shocked to his hands, shaking his head numbly. It took a second before a thought came and he scrambled out his phone, quickly texting Bill. 

‘ _ Are you okay????? He’s calling the police. I’m coming after you.’ _

“Mabel, stay here. Convince uncle Fiddleford that I...I went to Wendy’s. I needed support.” He stuttered, mind stricken.

“ _ Dipper, _ bro-bro, come on.” Mabel’s voice was surprisingly steady considering what just happened, surprisingly solid and it felt so much more so than his. His gaze turned up, meeting her pale, concerned features. But they too remained firm in her. “Stay here. You can’t leave, don’t be stupid.” 

“I have to.” He was already on his feet, snatching his bag and pine tree hat, pulling up a pair of cargo pants faster than you could blink before he was already pushing his way to the window. It was a difficult maneuver, but not one he hadn’t done before. Pocketing his phone, he managed to swing his way out to the roof and from there move along it toward another side of the house more accessible to the trees of which he managed to leap on and slide down from, abandoning his twin behind who called after him in the dark.

Shaky feet met solid ground, and he sent his uncle and Wendy a text too, just for good measure, just for the unrelenting fear that gripped inside him, before shoving his phone into his bag and working his way against the soil, searching desperately for any sign of Bill, for any sign of his car or footprints or  _ anything. _

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He’s breathing hard. 

This wasn’t like him, he would like to think. There’s an unbearable weight crushing his windpipes. From what, exactly? The earlier conversation about mothers? His frustrations with research, and now having a man point a gun at his head? No hesitation. No regard for his life. Bill didn’t know how to process these emotions. He was never taught how, never  _ learned _ how on his own accord. No healthy methods either, which possibly justified his reasoning for ever indulging in drugs when younger. But some habits weren’t always accessible. All he had was the pocketknife in his shoe, himself, and the blinding moonlight that seemed to be shining down on him and only him. 

He should talk to Ford. Something. Not that the demon was his therapist or that he even  _ imagined _ putting him in that position, but there was some relation when it came to violent tendencies. The nature of it all. When his phone buzzes, Bill tossed it to the side. The screen immediately cracks as it landed against a rock, tumbling to the forest floor.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford had been settled there against the great throw rug before the massive hearth of green crackling flame, licking colors and dancing images of shadows against the broad and open space. The sofa chairs gone, table vanished, the demon sitting straight and collected in a clear meditative pose, fingers gently touching in a closed circle on either knee. He was traversing different aspects of the universe, different spaces, collecting in himself a certain pull of the ethereal, of the endless, and too the infinite of the great cosmos beyond. His breath rose and fell without thought, rather soft and lingering against himself, his form, the chaos and teeming dark energy of him too solid and soft in the relaxed tension that met each and every aspect then. 

Even as he traveled, focusing into the moment of this reality, falling into the seams of himself, the sea of the multiverse, he picked through the events earlier that day somewhere in the fabric of himself. A calm enveloping him at the ideas and images, settling in a pool there at his mind. 

Images flashed above his head as if a small movie screen sat there, filtering over flashes of Bill’s form over the past few months, flickering over a golden necklace with a golden amulet of an eye, speeding briefly over a woman’s face and a smiling child with a bandaid, flickering there over every piece of information his subconscious could leaf through in the otherwise calming stillness.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill didn’t remember seeing black. 

He didn’t remember mindscape either, for that matter, his blood soaked and bruised figure materializing into the space with frantic, desperate screams that choked out wailing sobs. He cried out for someone’s name, too gargled to properly decipher as he scrubbed his skin vigorously enough to create welts. The image of Ford had also startled the color from him, causing him to fall and kick himself back until he couldn’t anymore. Mindscape itself had unfortunately aided with the horrific thoughts and disorientation, blackening wherever he went, whispers following, begging,  _ chastising _ him in all its agony. He couldn’t remember what he was doing, no recollection following as his throat went raw from bawling his heart out. A disruptive and uncharacteristic display to the otherwise peaceful moments prior to Bill’s unexpected arrival.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford was on his feet almost at once, the eyes, all of them that would hover impossibly above the mass of wiry black chaos against his head snapping to life, the center yellow one fixing its slit, transfixed on Bill’s writhing form. He was moving swiftly then, feet propelled to push against the dark marbel to drop there at the human as he wailed, clawing and sobbing into the open space. 

“Bill. Bill.  _ William. _ ” He took his voice, his tone calm and collected and assured, a hand reaching to place against Bill’s shoulder, to hold there firmly. And there too subconscious images and voices appeared, as physical manifestations. He never wanted to intrude or encourage weakness, to steal independence from Bill.  _ Usually. _ But this time with a subtle wave of his hand he silenced the images that manifested subconsciously in the dreamscape, throwing them from the space, shutting them out in a slight twinge of anger at their effect of torment in this realm. In a rather sacred space. A space that he and Bill would train to be better, stronger, more than. Normally allowing them here was a part of this process. But not now. It left him feeling a stirring of that anger, something only deep there, left aside to focus on the other.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill flinched at the touch, gasping, choking, the sudden disperse of his thoughts finally clearing into nothingness, leaving only him, Ford, and his aching arms behind. He blinked, the tremors still violent as he gazed woefully up at the demon, trying to familiarize his face, to  _ make _ out his voice into something comforting. It’s.. difficult. He wasn’t in control over his own head, nor did he realize what type of strong reaction this all was. PTSD? That didn’t seem correct and neither was he in the position to suddenly diagnose himself off the bat. “...H-Help me.” It’s a hushed plea, a quiet little thing. From an entirely different perspective he wouldn’t even recognize his own voice for the moment, a rattling hand reaching to tentatively touch at Ford’s arm. He didn’t know  _ what _ help he needed. If anything, for everything to come to a sudden halt.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Something pulled there briefly, darkly in the depths of his two human eyes as they met and closed on Bill’s. As they took in the words, the state, the animal desperation that clawed and reeled and struggled in the other’s desperate, almost childlike state. A hand worked its way against Bill’s forehead, a cool and gentle aura thrumming there, resting against the coarse heat and the partially dried blood. 

“You must breathe.” He spoke gently, voice calm and level but tied too with a slight of urgency. “You must breathe, William. I am right here. As are you. We are in our space, this realm.  _ Breathe. _ ” Something gentle and chilling traveled over Bill from where he placed his hand, working against their connection, the tendrils of his fingers condensing into a more solid, supple density in it. As if ice, the feeling spilled, sliding from his palm and over the other, bracing, chilled in some way that may arguably be grounding almost to try and disperse just some of the worst of the chaos that fought and spat and lay untethered there within Bill. Just a slight softness to break it apart. A slight edge against the power of that storm. “We are here together, William. You are safe.  _ Breathe _ . I will not leave you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m-“ Speaking made his throat clamp in on itself, though he chased short-lived thoughts that tossed restlessly through his mind. Without meaning to, Bill’s nails had bit into Ford’s arm, hard, him pressing his head further against the hand that provided relief— an escape from the world that felt to be collapsing around him, crushing, burying, those unwanted memories springing to life. A broken, much more guttural laughter had settled in the back of his throat, a fit of coughs and weeps crashing through as both the words and cooled sensation had took their respective course in soothing him. “I know- I-“ he swallowed the knot, trying to create a stable breathing pattern. “Ford did.. did I kill someone? I.. Ford- I cant- I can’t remember—“ And he didn’t want to either. Not for the time being.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford kept his hand still there against the human’s head, fighting to cool against the heat, unmoving, attempting still to smooth out the rough edges of the violence and fear that roiled and teemed against Bill’s mind, keeping himself in the while poised and calm, keeping his own sense of self level and grounded, even as he focused entirely on the human there just beneath his dark form. He did not react or protest in any way as Bill’s hand dug into his arm, even as it broke the flesh for a dark, thick liquid to dribble there. Something that was far from even a nuisance for him. “ _ Hear me _ , Bill, you are alright. You are alright. This is in the past. You are  _ here _ now. What you are seeing is no longer real. Focus on me. On your breath. On this space, it is all that exists.” In the energetic, he pulled and soothed the threads of it all, the ravagings of Bill’s turmoiled space and the emotions that came from the images there, Ford trying to ease the worst of it, to calm the height, the fierce life or death fight of it, keeping his voice calm and steady all the while. “ _ Breathe, _ William. Focus on the sounds of the fire. The smell. Of myself. This will pass, I assure you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It took time. A decent amount for him to still, calm, listen and fully take in Ford’s words as he sat on the floor, breathing coming to an agonizingly slow conclusion of functioning back to its regular pattern. Part of him wished not to be touched. The blood slicked on his skin and clothes rejected the idea of engaging physically with anyone, yet he remained in his spot, eyes fluttering shut as those memories and exaggerated happenings started to fade. The grip on Ford had loosened, if only to press gently along the demon’s arm. Almost apologetically for displaying such a scene, mortification replacing fear shortly. He blinked the remaining tears out his eyes, sighing, drained of energy to the point he didn’t believe he could stand. No, his knees certainly would buck underneath these conditions. Staying on the floor was the safest bet.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford continued trying to ground the other where needed, continued speaking calmly, voice collected, still keeping his hand held there, not moving or swaying in this space. Even as the time crept by, even as the other gripped and dug into his arm, as soon as the human began to ease, as soon as the mania began to ebb, as soon as those images and emotions seemed to pool somewhere just a bit gentler, more present, Ford brought his hand away, before considering the other. “Bill. Listen to me carefully. I am going to lift you, but only for a moment. Do you understand?” And with that, he moved himself in a way that allowed him to lift Bill up, getting steadily to his feet. And carefully shifting the other’s weight, he wove his hand through the air, a large bed appearing before the hearth, simplistic in design with its base carved out wholly as if from the base of an impossibly large and ancient tree. It took very little time for him to settle the other there on top of it. “Sleep, Bill. When you awake in your world you will feel more steady...I promise you that much.” He stood there over that space as he spoke, still the highlights of shadows enveloping his form in the flickering light of the flames.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill actively fought back the urge to outright  _ sock _ Ford in the face, a thought that had never once graced his mind in the time they spent together. It never should even have crossed paths, but being lifted from his solid surface had brought along some minor panic, clinging to Ford instead, trying to give his hands something to do with themselves. Being lowered had all but settled him once more, the more.. familiar softness of a bed, meant to bring comfort and the feeling of safety. Truth be told, being stuck within mindscape was probably a better alternative to the actual reality of everything, which he was sure wasn’t in the best state, for the little he could remember. He situated himself, a slight shift of his legs, eyes searching around the room before landing on Ford’s figure. He cracked a very forced, humorless smile. “...I wish I could wipe your memory.” His own, as well.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford could sense the struggle, the desire to fight, but he made no mention of it, nor seemingly did it prevent him from acting. Once Bill was situated he tipped his head to the side, and a weak smile then came at his features. “Cipher. I have been witness to much...much worse than this in my time.” The words were solid, a steady assurance, tendrils still moving listless and careful along his body.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“It’s-“ Bill laughed. Again, quiet, hushed, like he’s afraid to get any louder than a mere whisper, lacking the confidence it once held. Brown eyes strayed, weakened smile steadily dying into a thin line. After a moment, he turned his back to face Ford as half his face sunk into the mattress. “Let’s... not talk about this again when I come back,” he murmured, though it was audible. “..I’ll see you later, alright? Thank you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Ford kept his head tilted slightly, studying the other's form. A moment of silence held there, hanging against the air, but nodded regardless, even as Bill’s back was to him. “...If that is how you wish it. But do not thank me. This is...expected. Typical. There is little reason to feel shame for it.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I don’t know if you’re trying to be comforting or just.. stating the facts.” Some strain were laced in his words, perhaps not too keen on what Ford was saying. It was impossible not to feel an overwhelming sense of shame after the unusual break down of his character. Reality shattering, in a sense, that he couldn’t even trust his mind or body to act accordingly. He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“If you had done something to be ashamed of, don’t mistake this, I would let you know.” He vowed steadily, words calm and certain. In a moment of silence, he continued to survey the other, before continuing somewhat gently. “I will not speak of this again, if that is what you truly wish. But be aware. This is an aspect of your nature, Bill, it is a part of your make up...there is no shame to this.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yes, well.” Bill left it at that, a still silence left hanging on his end. Conversations weren’t ideal, and for the moment, the general affection he held for the demon was nonexistent, simply Ford being another.. creature he encountered in the forest. It’s why he hadn’t provided much of goodbye in his parting, a force of will pulling him from the mindscape without further ceremony. Though, his reality hadn’t been much better, the warmth of the bed being substituted with the cold hard ground, a slick and sticky substance dominating his entire body. Bill’s eyes cracked open. The stench was unbearable, his head slowly but surely lifting from a patch of cold fur that’s clumped together. The scene... somehow didn’t invoke a panic attack as his thoughts did earlier, an uncomfortable ease washing over as he blearily looked at the massacre before and beneath him. There’s a deer hanging by its throat from a sturdy branch, gut slit open with its innards halfway from slipping out entirely. It was still bucking, breath heavy, though the doe beneath him had been ripped to shreds entirely. No eyes, skull bashed in, mouth hung open with a broken jaw and some teeth missing or crooked from failed attempts. He swallowed, the taste of metallic there, strong, but his conscious told him its better than to inspect what may have been in his mouth. 

Ah, this was... normal, right? His nails muddied and dirtied, hair slicked against his sweaty forehead, stained and smeared in red. He was missing a shoe, as well as the pocket knife and his general recollection of the events that took place. All he remembered was Fiddleford pointing a shotgun at him, but everything else was just... lost.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It hadn’t really taken him a lot of time to find the cell phone as he’d tried calling Bill a few more times, screen cracked and abandoned, leaving in him a hitch of numb, muted panic as he’d carefully and gingerly taken it in his hands and brought it into his bag. The next moments were spent running out along the woods, shifting in his head over all the places Bill could possibly be, plowing forward despite the deeper shifts and shadows and noises teeming to life in an all too familiar cacophony of sound that fell over Gravity Fall’s at dark. Once he was reasonably out of range from the house he’d called out there frantically, maybe against better judgement, trying to keep his tone hushed, voice quiet but still loud enough to still not be heard farther out. “BILL!  _ BILL. _ ” He called hoarsely, desperately. And his feet hit the ground, plowing over familiar landscapes, familiar scenes that were quickly, in his panic, becoming more and more lost to him by the moment, his heart racing and thrusting at his rib cage, still lingering on that same kind of stupid, deafening shock.

He still couldn’t wrap his head around any of this. He still couldn’t find in him a place for thought. It was chaotic and nonsensical noise and all he could really focus on was  _ finding _ the other, eyes flickering through the open brush and what little could be seen in the streaks of mismatched light cast out between black leaves of a white moon and glimpses of branching stars towering far above him against the spray of inky blackness. “BILL! Come on, it’s  _ me! _ ” He called again, hitching his bag unconsciously as he moved and continued along the trees, mentally cursing the situation. It had been far too long. Too long that he found himself trekking down an animal or gnome made trail and finally broke into a small clearing, his eyes skimming over the space with a gripping, deep anxiety ridden weariness just to double back on a pale figure, a lump of a thing, out against one of the towering birch trees. The birch’s browns on white seeming to haunt eyes in that space, staring at him through the grouping of them, deepened and splashed crimson in dark blood. And his face paled, sharpening, something heavy hitching his throat as he made out the full canvas of dark, dark red that sunk into the edges of the scene. The stench of it finally coming to him, bowling him over like a physical wall. And too, his eyes dragged carefully, slowly out against the tree where something...writhed. Kicking and struggling, a gutturally inhuman, gruesome sound coming from the mass of flesh and fur as the blood matted its form entirely. And Dipper stood there in the small spaces of moonlight, in the catch of the clearing and dark, eyes wide and blown, shocked, holding the strap of his bag close to his chest as he simply stared numb and muted at the scene.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper’s voice sounded further then what it actually was, though his appearance in the scene didn’t go unnoticed. By the time Bill got to his feet, rolling his shoulders back in an attempt to ease the tense knot buried into the muscles, he tried to not outright create eye contact. He simply wiped his hands on his pants leg, casual, sparing a glance towards the corpse beneath him before opening his mouth to speak. “Go home.” It isn’t said angrily, or with anything, really, entirely emotionless and void of sympathy for his actions. If there was  _ one _ thing he cared for, it was sparing the kid any trauma. Any imagery that killed him from the inside out. Although, it might be too late by this time. “Go home, Dipper.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Holy...shit. Dipper continued to stare, something sharp going through him, cutting off his air as he finally made out the full mess of animals and death. It took a long, long moment in which he remained rooted there to finally find his voice again. “B-....Bill?” It came out hoarse. He took a step forward, but faltered. “Are...are you okay?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Not even close,” Bill deadpanned, voice somewhat hoarse. He could pass out again, slip into that unconsciousness as he stood, feeling the harsher winds of the forest pass by. It helped a little with the odor of death, but otherwise was a sharp reminder of what he’s done. “Stop looking.” Not that it mattered anymore. The damage was done, forever planted. “Please, turn around.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Well...I mean...are...are you hurt?" He almost reached forward at the question, hesitant, the concern bleeding there clearly into his voice. Dipper's eyes immediately and almost unconsciously flashed away at the demand, still too pale and shocked. He didn't quite turn around, but stared almost fixedly at a piece of ground some closer distance to him, at least following some of what Bill told him. He swallowed, trying to work past the smell that still took to the other, fight past his still racing mind. "L-look man, it's...it's been a weird night." The teen commented and wetted his lips unconsciously. Weird, terrifying. It all ran the same way and all he wanted to do was to fix this. To reach out and make this right. To bring this back to the grounding, the roots he understood, to pull it back to just the two of them. "Maybe we can just...go back to your place. You know. Get you cleaned up. And if the cops come...I'll...I’ll talk to them. I'll just...tell them they were mistaken. If I invited you there, they can't do anything, right...?" Not trespassing if you're a guest. He still looked shaken, still looked pale, still looked stark and white under the light of that moon there in the darkness, Bill's dried blood left in flecks across his too white skin, but fought not to make any comment on it all.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“...The cops heading to a man’s place who has a teenager, the same one who’s guardian wants separated from.” Bill clicked his tongue, ignoring the grotesque sound of splattering as guts and organs spilled from the deer above, messily painting the blades of grass and dirt. Its final breaths were given, a last kick of its hooves before hanging there motionless. Another breeze kicked by, rustling the branches and leaves, goosebumps pricking at his skin. “Kid.” He took a second, piecing words together. “I’m going to get arrested. I don’t see.. an alternative from that.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He tensed, flinching slightly. "No, we just...we just need to explain the situation." He insisted. He felt entirely too small grappling at his words, desperate to place himself. It was entirely too frustrating, infuriating still being a teenager. Still being considered under someone's care, incapable of just making these kinds of decisions, having the responsibility of them, all on your own. He gripped a tight fist. "And...we can't stay here." His voice was quiet.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Explain what? That I broke into your home? I’m in the wrong here.” Bill was, but that didn’t mean he would let Fiddleford’s defense slide easily. It was a difficult pit having your brain scrambled, and indecisive on whether or not to kill a man who held a special part in the lives of two kids he cared about. “...There is no  _ we _ in this instance. You need to head back.“

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"I'm not heading back." Dipper put there stubbornly, fists still gripped at his sides, gaze still averted just like Bill had asked. "We can work through this together." Again he insisted, sounding suprisingly more sure of himself.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill stared at him, no malice, just a simple stare that attempted to pry through Dipper, figure out why in  _ God’s name _ would it be worth it to this degree? In the next second, those same eyes narrowed. “I killed these. Are you not scared of being around someone this mentally unstable? The same person who you saw the ending of through glimpses? I don’t get you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

His expression faltered at that, but only slightly. "I..." He hesitated, just momentarily in some tension, some panic, before clutching back down into that resolve. "It doesn't matter." His tone came back stronger, still keeping his eyes off to the side, a glint of steel hardening there. "And what's to get? Your my friend." A little more than that by this point, honestly. Family sounded more true to him. Mentor in some fucked up way. Parent or brother. There was something almost aching in him at saying it, his gaze flickering to Bill's own.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

There’s the urge to snap at him, bring attention to how gullible and naive that entire response was. To  _ tell _ someone ”you’re my friend” in a moment where they’re caked in blood. That’s more insane then he could ever be. Yet. His chest tightened. Perhaps he’s growing too soft living here. “...If we head back, there’s a chance they’re already at my door.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"You can't tell me you don't have some weird...secret James Bond entrance in the back. I won't believe you." He said flatly, trying on some level for their old banter, even if it felt slightly off somehow. "And we can just...not let them know we're there. They can't enter without a legal reason, right?"

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The slightest tug to his lips appeared, though not entirely. Bill picked a leg up experimentally so, steady, finally taking a few steps, but not in the direction of Dipper. He gave the tiniest nod of his head, indicating he wished for the kid to follow along. “They can’t. Between you and me, the officers... aren’t the smartest.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Yeah, and honestly I'm pretty sure it's just the two of them in town." He deadpanned a bit sardonically, tone at least trying on closer to their usual back and forth and felt a certain sense of relief come over him, noticeable in his posture. Maybe for Bill's benefit, or more for himself, but he didn't turn to look at the gruesome scene as he started off, instead hurrying to catch up to fall in step behind the other.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hate to disappoint you, but all I have is a regular backdoor.” And one where he would have to thoroughly hose himself off before entering. Bill didn’t understand how serial killers came to like this, quite honestly. The feeling of blood covering your entire body was sickening, especially if derived from wild animals. “I might.. vomit.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Still finding it hard to believe you." Dipper put in, already trailing after the other through the dark. He hesitated at the comment, still too relieved and somehow numb from all of that night's events to really be swayed or taken in by the clear gore that caked the other. Still too disoriented and shocked somehow. "Well, I mean, just be sure to face the other way." Again he tried for a slight jab in his tone, maybe like they usually might play off.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Mm.” Bill was salivating. The usual effects that happened right before choking out one’s contents. He found a way to hold it down, groaning, his stomach in twists and knots as they continued their walk. It felt like the trees were boring down at him, judgmental. “...I’m not leaving my house for a while after this. I don’t know.” He was thinking out loud, mostly.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Well...not like you do much anyways." He commented, eyeing the other cautiously as he came to trek the woods just beside him. "Shouldn't be that much of a difference, right?" Dipper was pretty sure Bill would still get...if not arrested, at least detained eventually. But then again, it felt like this was still a victory. And Dipper really needed a victory for them right now. "Hell, maybe I can even start bringing pizzas over...keep exposing you to those same peasant standards."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Right.” The corners of his mouth twitched again, his manor to be seen off in the distance, barely peeking through the towering trees. “I’d like that. Does pizza have butter on it?” Conversation. Maybe that’s what he needed, something to keep himself grounded. “I’ve been.. eating a lot of bread and butter lately. My arteries are going to clog probably.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"You...just eat bread and butter? Like...nothing else?" He deadpanned, again something to prod the other. Maybe conversation, something back to their old repitoire was what Dipper needed too right then honestly. He continued on it, even at the further deep, almost shaking relief at seeing the familiar manor ahead break out through the trees. "And...actually, you know I think it does? Like in the bread probably. Also a looooot of grease. In fact I'll tell you right now it's mostly just grease and cheese."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“That hamburger changed my life for the worst.” Somewhat. He definitely had cravings by now aside from the pies he ate, despite his lack of sweet tooth. Indulging in butter, more then anything, had brought about a more unhealthy side he’s yet to suffer from. “Grease? That.. sounds disgusting.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

A slight ghost of a smile came to Dipper at that. "Well. If you liked the cheeseburger, you're definitely going to be into pizza." He assured the other with some manner of confidence. "It's basically the epitome of "unhealthy commoner food." I'll try and order us some tomorrow." Or today, he guessed. He had to wonder how long it would be before the sun rose. "Also pretty much the best food to unwind with too, honestly."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Mhm.” Bill’s gates were fairly tall, even from the distance they were in, though the obstacle itself wasn’t all that difficult to overcome given his general lack of security measures. His backyard consisted of a patio, another part of his garden spread out with an untouched grill and gardening gloves laid beside a watering can. There’s even a humming bird feeder, not that it’s been refilled in ages. Strange to imagine the man in blood and that spouted obscurities took the passion of planting flowers and vegetables. After a while, he squeezed through the remaining trees and bushes, past the woodline and onto his property. He didn’t know if any officers were there, but guessing from the lack of red and blues flashing, he assumed either the call wasn’t made yet or they were still interviewing. Whatever those two did. He turned to Dipper eventually, at least when they made it close enough. “I’ll help you over, alright?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The relief felt entirely palpable now that they were actually there at the gate, Dipper's still pale features becoming a bit more light at the sight of the place. He'd also never understand how in between hunting monsters, "romancing" a demon, and doing...whatever it was he did in the large mansion Bill found both time and interest in a garden. He'd seen it a few times and upon first arriving had just assumed like the rest of the decor it was for show. It wasn't until he'd caught Bill one day actually  _ in the garden _ that things had clicked together. He'd definitely poked fun that day, all at Bill’s expense. At Bill's voice he glanced over to him, brought back to himself, and nodded sharply. The clear, thick gore spread over the other man's features felt so stark in contrast to that memory somehow. "Right, okay. Sounds good." After pushing passed the thoughts the kid moved to sling his backpack off, sliding it through the bars before looking to the other for some support.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill knelt down on one knee, putting one hand in the other, palm held outwardly. “Alright,” he said, giving another nod. “Come on. I’ll heft you up. Watch your step and don’t crush my cucumbers once you’re over.” He didn’t particularly care at the moment. It was more of a poorly executed attempt at lighthearted banter. If anything, he was antsy to get drenched in water and change his clothes as quickly as possible.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Right. I wouldn't want to crush your prized winning vegetables." He flashed a bit of a weak grin before using the support to try and level himself over the fence, only fumbling a little as he awkwardly struggled his way over. He did in fact end up hoisting himself all too awkwardly at the top and fall rather unceremoniously with a rough thud to the other side with a slight wince. God. So much for any kind of cool factor.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Better not.” Bill himself added too much force as he pushed Dipper up, grunting, not exactly the strongest man alive despite his impressive agility. When Dipper is up and over, there’s a snort to be heard from behind the wall. Though soon he joined along, a little more with grace as he pulled himself over, landing on his feet with a minor stagger into his grill. Luckily it hadn’t toppled over or made too much noise. “Ugh. Let’s-“ he looked around, spotting the hose that had yet to be wrapped up again. Call it laziness. “Let’s spray me down right quick.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper rubbed at his head, dislodging his hat somewhat as he did before he glanced up, blinking for a second. "Oh, uh...yeah, sure." And climbing to his feet he brushed himself off, working his way over to the hose. "Is there like a faucet or...?" He picked it up, examining the area for some sign of one to start it up.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill already started stripping himself down. The clothes were forever ruined, and he was far too wealthy to waste time fretting over something that could easily be replaced by next week. Eventually all that’s left are his boxers, which were Versace, and the most unnecessary purchase in mankind. “See that knob?” He asked, nose wriggling at the stench that still clung to him. “Over in there corner, right by the backdoor. All you need to do is turn the knob and point it at me- er, change the setting to jet, just to make it easier.” As painful as it’s going to be.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper had to snort slightly that the man dressed right down to the underwear, giving him a look before dragging the hose along toward the backdoor and finally spotting the knob in question. "Alright...I think I found it." He informed the other, messing around with turning it and adjusting the hose all the while. A sudden jet of water exploded from the thing and Dipper fumbled momentarily, somehow managing to get a face full of it himself with a startled, muffled and water logged yelp.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It’s a gradual process. One to be documented, honestly, just to showcase how someone went from tense and quiet to bubbling with laughter in the span of five seconds. It’s still such a quiet thing, afraid to return to its usual disturbing volume, but it was all genuine. Still the same. “Oh man, you  _ are _ the dorkiest thing imaginable. I’m not sure how you messed up such a simple task, but you did! Great show, kid.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper sputtered, flailing slightly with the hose before he fumbled to turn it on less of a full blast, giving Bill a bit of a very specific " _ look _ " that just screamed unamused wet cat. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." He grumbled slightly, wiping a hand down his face to rid himself of some more heavier flecks of the water. Eventually, still soaked himself, he wandered closer by. "Alright so just like...uh. I don't know, be careful? It's kinda...a lot of water." As if that needed to be said after the display. "You ready?"

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill extended his arms, chin tilted up. “And the lord said, let there be rain. I think.” Something like that. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.” The jet feature wasn’t the best. Painful, pricks of water that was enough to leave welts behind. It was probably supposed to be used in order to clean out gutters, though this occasion called for more fire power. “Just don’t, I don’t know, blind me.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Right. No blinding." He agreed. For good measure he turned the knob a little less, if just to not entirely maul the other with the coming blast. "And...yeah, I'm sure that's how it goes." His voice was a little amused before with that Dipper lifted the hose, turning on the spray feature and pulling the trigger. Now that he'd sort of got the hang of it earlier, he didn't seem to struggle that much in just straight up power washing Bill, though did his best for his part to avoid the head where the eyes were.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

An uncharacteristic squeak left his mouth. It was cold, just as expected, his body tensing underneath the spray as flecks of dirt and blood washed off his body from the pressure. He even rotated his hands, which would be needing a more thorough wash if he planned on properly cleaning out his nails. “ _ Ffffffffff _ — woo! WOO! I am  _ feeling _ it right now! In my spine!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper couldn't help but laugh at the reaction. "It uh. It sure wakes you up." He agreed, grinning. He only sprayed for a little while longer though, who even knew when something like catching a cold could occur out here. When he'd thoroughly sprayed Bill's general entirety he shut the house off, releasing the trigger all at once. "There. You know, good as new."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

His turn to look like an unhappy wet cat, dripping, his hair flattened and covering his eyes. Bill huffed softly, walking awkwardly, side to side, even as he went to retrieve his dirtied clothes. “I feel.. gay.” That didn’t make much sense, but it wasn’t supposed to. Simply nonsense. He neared the back door, briefly kneeling to retrieve a small key underneath the welcoming mat. “I need a bath. And bleach.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"If it helps, you definitely look it." Dipper agreed helpfully, grinning as he carefully circled the hose together neatly, placing it to the side. He hurried to catch up, freezing and dripping himself, hugging his arms around himself to rub at his arms. "You know. Pretty sure you probably have both of those things inside. Honestly I'd be surprised if you didn't have some tub in the living room somewhere." Maybe a swimming pool in the back too.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I don’t know how to take that in the context of being in a hillbilly town, kid.” Bill unlocked the door, the warmth and homely smell of pinsol and new furniture welcoming him immediately. He stepped inside, leaving droplets in his path. First thing he did was dumping his clothes into the trash bin, still awkwardly walking as he fumbled for the light switch of the kitchen. “I’m going to go scrub myself. In the meantime, don’t touch my shit.” Then he turned, winking. “Even though I wouldn’t  _ possibly _ know if you would touch my belongings. With being in the bathroom and all. Hope no rebellious activities happen on my property!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"The context is you are absurd. And have a ton of money." He quipped right back, quick to follow as Bill stepped inside and flicked on the lights. He himself felt a new washing of relief at the familiar surroundings and atmosphere, feeling himself relax before Bill spoke up again. "I'm...kind of getting mixed signals here." He admitted flatly, glancing off with a decisive squint. "Uh, also, there's no chance you maybe have some...extra clothes or...something I could borrow?" He asked meekly, kind of gesturing down to his still clearly wet form. Not to mention during his rush to leave he was still wearing his short sleeved X-Files "I want to believe" night shirt which frankly was not suited to the chill of the night outside.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“And you’re a nerd who could only hope to obtain this level of wealth.” It wasn’t all what its cracked up to be, honestly. Not that he would outright admit to it, further fitting the stereotype of the lonely rich man sobbing in piles of gold and blowing his nose with cash. Bill blinked the water out of his eyes, trying to navigate quickly. “In my bedroom, top drawer, there’s all my t-shirts. Knock yourself out. Just don’t touch the one that has my face printed on it. That’s only for me.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

A slight grin touched his face again, "Eeugh, what? Your face? Why would you have that." He asked plainly and scrunched his nose. Still, he felt a little bit better about the idea of actually getting dry. Standing around wet was not exactly the most enjoyable thing in the world. "But alright, cool. Uh, which one's your bedroom? This place is like a castle, man." All the same he started through the kitchen as if he could somehow magic the answers out as he walked.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“ _ Because. _ ” Bill offered no further explanation. Some of the narcissism spoke for itself, and if nobody else was going to build him a monument, he could at least settle for the more simpler pleasures in life: getting your face on a shirt. “Just follow me,” he said, wobbling awkwardly over into the hall and up the staircase. Each step was slow, movement generally being uncomfortable to endure.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper eyed him as he followed after, still hugging himself from the cold. "Uh, right...sounds good." He paused briefly, a frown lingering on his face "Say...you're not...injured are you?" He'd assumed that all that...blood hadn't been Bill's. And he didn't  _ see _ any cuts. But then again, what if Bill had broken or hurt something else?

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I punched through a window,” Bill reminded, holding his hand up for a brief second. There was a semi-deep cut between his bruised knuckles, a little more noticeable when he spread his fingers. “Might’ve fractured something. Movies sure are misleading, I tell ya.” Up on the second floor, he guided Dipper over to his bedroom— a little more colorful then the rest of the house, personal touches with a golden lining comforter over the unnecessarily massive bed, pictures displayed on the walls; ones of himself, specifically relaxing on the beach, posing, another more wild with a pink-haired woman having her tongue out, arm slung over his shoulder. They looked to be at a concert, something like that. Bill made his way on past it all, numbed to scene, and far more interested in making it to his master bathroom.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Uhhh. Shouldn't we...like wrap it up or something? Disinfect it?" Dipper...sort of had some experience with first aid. You didn't get to venture out on as many escapades as he did without picking something up. Though frankly too most of what he'd learned had been from the man in front of him on the odd occasion when he'd slammed into a tree or stumbled over a root running amuck along the forest. Dipper peered around the change in scenery, clearly peeking his interest. He may have come here a good few times since the first visit, but he'd never really seen Bill's actual bedroom before. He took note of the photos, the somewhat more personal feel of the place, grinning slightly more genuinely at the one with the weird looking pink girl and rolling his eyes at the massive bed. "Geez, Bill, you could fit like six of you on there." He commented dryly.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“What’s the worst that could happen?” It getting infected, is what. Though Bill entirely disregards this in favor of reaching his sanctuary, flipping on the lights. “Six of me? An attractive and very dangerous fantasy, but I’m trying to fit one demon on there if he would give in already. Persistence is key!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Well, it could...get infected?" He tried, because honestly, it could. And at that he rolled his eyes as if again calling to the wisdom of some great unknown force. "Please tell me you're not still trying to woo the demon." He practically begged, but they both knew the answer to that question. If only Bill really were like Mabel in that she tended to get over her infatuation after a certain state of rejection set in and time passed. Then they'd just be scribbling somewhat rude and absolutely immature additions over old photos. He's not sure how he'd feel doing that to Ford's book, but then again if it meant Bill moving on, it'd be worth it. "Okay cool, so you said in the...top drawer?" He asked, trying to map out the impossibly large space.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Infected, shmected. I’m not worried about it. It’ll be fine.” Hopefully. He bent down, rummaging through the cabinet underneath his sink in search for the  _ good _ essentials. Bubbles and soap. “Yes I’m still trying to woo the demon. We had our first hug not that long ago,” Bill pulled out a bottle, inspecting it. Lavender for another day. Milk and honey? In. He stood up, not bothering to close the door as he neared the tub, turning on the water. “Yep! Top drawer. Remember, don’t touch my special shirt. Or your kneecaps are mine.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Why Bill. Seriously." He grunted as he frowned, pulling a sort of disturbed face at the idea. "What was that...even like? Doesn't he...isn't he just mostly...weird tentacles and...I don't know, nightmares or something?" He grimaced at the image in his head of the two actually hugging. And snorted roughly at Bill's quip. "Why would I want to?" He called after and started peeling off his wet X-Files shirt, carefully folding it after and slipping it into the outer pocket of his bag before making his way over towards the ridiculously big dresser, making care to slide open the drawer and rifle through it for something dry. He probably should've asked about pants too but...well, it was fine. Just the top of them seemed a bit damp.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Uncomfortable,” he answered truthfully, checking the water as it gradually warmed. “Very uncomfortable! But I tell you what, when you’re heels over head for someone, that discomfort doesn’t matter. You’re just happy to touch their handsome tentacles.” Well. Currently, Bill wouldn’t be interested in physical contact on such a level. At all. It made his skin crawl, but it was simply a feeling that would come to pass once he was... a little more stable.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Yeah, I bet it was." His voice still held a tone of very certain disbelief to it. "And seriously? Even that's not going to, you know, make you think twice about this...?" He pulled out a decent enough looking long sleeved shirt, examining it in the light for a moment. After deciding better of it for how chilled he was he folded it back carefully, setting it into the drawer to dig out a warmer looking one. "I mean, sooner or later it's got to occur to you that this is like, a really, really bad idea, right? I mean there's  _ no way _ this is at all a good idea." Once satisfied with the next yellow, warmer looking one he made to pull it on over his head, finding some relief in the warmth.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

When it’s properly lukewarm and full, Bill stripped the last article of clothing down, slowly and comfortably lowering himself into the water with a content sigh, shoulders deep. “Nope! Love of my life,” he sung, somewhat off tune. “Soulmate! Us and our twenty abnormal spawns running around! Actually- nah, no kids. You’re annoying enough.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He snorted. "Probably for the best." He called over, that same sardonic tone clear as he walked along the edges of room, taking in the personal artifacts and photos all the while. "God. I still don't even want to imagine what that would look like.  _ Still. _ A bunch of weird, crazy monstrous nightmares..." He paused, adding with a grin, "And I guess they'd be half demon too with Ford in the mix, right? Lucky you." Nope, even if it was a joke, which it  _ was, _ he actually, honestly, did not want to even think about the idea. At least Ford wasn't compatible and also male. Probably. Most likely. He actually still could not say.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

There’s a few moments before his tub was stacked in bubbles, Bill pouring an unnecessary amount of bath soap inside, laughing, making the effort at scrubbing at his arms and underneath his nails. “Good thing, you don’t  _ gotta. _ There comes a time in a man’s life where he realizes he’s not fit to be a father, because his child would accidentally crawl into the oven or off a balcony.” There’s the sound of Bill splashing, expressing the inner child that happened to slip out every once in a while. He needed this. Very much so. “Ah, yes. Our children would be high on the market. Could make a fortune out of them.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"You could." Dipper agreed, still grinning. "Like a little horrific demon army. Honestly still not sure which would provide more of the chaos into them though. You or Ford the demon." He tipped a photo off the wall, gently examining it in hand for a long moment. "Hell, maybe you guys could open a circus tent." After the moment passed he carefully replaced the photo, decidedly doing much of what Bill had asked him not to, as in poking through some of the knick knacks and things that might be in sight out of sheer curiosity.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hey. Don’t mock my hypothetical children. Speaking of which.” Again, another sound of him splashing, then moving to situate. Bill had a full on bubble beard dressing his face. “I didn’t forget about what I originally came to your home for, Pine Tree. Remember: Ford always knows, and he will always tell me. Because we’re partners. I’d say I’m surprised you’re out here sticking your nose where it doesn’t need to be, but uh. Have you seen Fiddler’s nose? A behemoth of honker, if I must say.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper visibly tensed and grimaced at the clear reminder, fumbling with the other photo he'd been looking at and only just avoiding allowing it to fall crashing to the ground. He felt a twist of that deep pit of guilt to overcome him, even with the rest of the night's events still lingering and stirring there. 

He really hadn't honestly expected to feel  _ this bad _ about going behind Bill's back. Old thoughts and reasonable excuses about how stubborn Bill was, what an infuriating idiot he was would come back to him later, but reality was this played out on a much more basic, much more fundamental emotional level that somehow tied in with seemingly and actually disappointing the man. It twisted deep. Especially after what he’d  _ done _ . After what had...already been done. Deeper still as his mind played to the realities of what he was already caught up in, something thick clogging in his throat at the thought. He laughed awkwardly, grimacing in it, trying to break the tension. "Yeah, I...r-right." He caught on clearing his throat, hands more clammy as they placed back the picture frame. "And...you know I did it for you, you idiot, right?" He called back, somehow managing to reclaim his usual clear tone when it came to the other. "That was the whole...you know. The whole reason."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I don’t  _ need _ you to do that.” Bill’s voice wasn’t meant to be cold, but the delivery was insensitive from how he worded it all. “I appreciate your concern, but there’s some things you’re just.. gonna have to let go. If this was something else, sure, but we’re talking about demons here! There’s no redo with them. Once it’s done, it’s done. You’re a kid who can barely handle marijuana, nonetheless.. deals with demons. Take a step back, breathe.” He wasn’t sure how else to say it. There’s appreciation there, but hearing Dipper sacrifice himself just to get Bill freed from a deal he willingly gave into wasn’t sitting right. “What I’m saying is- if you die from that, I’m going to shoot the entire town. That’s right! Town massacre!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper almost wanted to make a quip about the marijuana, but he didn't have the heart for it. Instead he placed a hand at the the back of his neck, looking off somewhat distant, definitely with a certain amount of guilt. "Yeah, well...I mean, I just...I had to try, you know?"  _ Don't tell him, don't tell him, don't tell him. _ He couldn't possibly tell Bill he'd pretty much already made a deal with a demon. And not just  _ a demon. _ Or even the implications that may or may not be involved there, of which he himself still didn't entirely understand. He couldn't help the light grin that tugged on his face at that however at the last of the words, giving a slight chuckle. "The whole town, huh?" He asked weakly. "That's like what, five people?"

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill didn’t respond at first, dousing his hair before emerging from the water, parting strands away from his eyes. He was about done, really, which meant he could stare Dipper down in the eye and pry other responses out of him. “But you don’t! You never have to go those lengths. One of these days I’m going to keel over and die from stupid decisions! You’ll just have to accept that without digging around.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He ­­­rolled his eyes, distracting his train of thought with picking up another photo, only to stare down at his own reflection there in the glass. Pale and uncertain. Did he... really look like that? Like someone with something to hide. He put the picture back. "Yeah, well, until then I'd rather do what I can to prevent death by other dumber reasons." He reiterated, now leaning back against the wall to shove his hands against the pockets of his cargo pants.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Was that  _ sass _ ? Sass in  _ my _ home?” It takes five minutes for him to fumble out the tub, managing not to slip and bust his head open, and succeeding in grabbing a towel. This would make his hair even worse, but he supposed it would fit the picture once he got arrested. Just to have the whole crackhead predator aesthetic going for himself. “Kid, you got some nerve talking this way to a man who has a demon husband. I could do all types of horrors right now.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Your "husband" is my D&D partner, I'm not really overly concerned." He tried again to add the humor back into his voice and succeeded in some small part at least, leaning his head back against the wall. It was still wet. "Um. You wouldn't happen to have a towel I could use for my hair in there?" It was a great mop of a thing, curls and tufts of it thicker than ever now. Dipper always kept it at a certain length, all the better to hide his birthmark. And he'd be lying if it wasn't also a point of distraction in the conversation and maybe in the restlessness of his continued guilt.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“My husband has been trapped underneath your dork spell, that’s what. Now I have to shove my love up against lockers and walls to knock him out of it.” A few seconds pass, him tending to himself before stepping out the bathroom, both with a towel wrapped around him and a spare in the crook of his arm. He held it out, unable to exactly give an impactful glare because of the general flat hairstyle. Hard to take him serious. “He’s  _ really _ into it. It’s absolutely disgusting!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"He's...into you shoving him against lockers and walls? You sure he's not more into the souls of the naive and innocent or something." He flashed the other a slightly grateful look at the towel, taking it hand to throw and tussle over his mess of brown, fraying locks, probably worse than Bill's at this point as it also consisted of an impressive amount of hat hair to top it off. The brown curls were almost permanently trapped beneath that blue pine tree hat and in times like this it definitely showed. He also decidedly did his best not to meet that harsh look, wild, unkempt messy blond hair or not.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“No! That’s the thing! I’m going to get killed trying to remove this geek part of him! The ole high school bully treatment!” Bill would never, if anything throw in subtle quips that he assumed the demon wouldn’t pick up on. He tried not to snort at the mess of brown hair, directing his attention towards the dresser instead as he fished for clothes. “But, you know what?  _ I _ wouldn’t mind getting thrown against a wall or locker. If he’s into that.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Well, hey, I guess if you're up to  _ hugging _ ..." Dipper put in sarcastically, though despite the jab he found himself...actually very unwillingly impressed and disturbed simultaneously that Bill had actually made it that far at all. Dipper felt absolutely positive if he ever tried to get close to the half-demon he'd get torn to shreds or worse, something that came to him on an almost instinctive, animal level. He continued to dry himself all the same, shaking his hair into it something like a wet dog before letting the towel just drop onto his shoulders for it to sit against. "I still can't believe you're still trying this with him. Is he...does he even understand what you're doing."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I think so. We might be at twenty percent progress here. Just have to awaken those lost human urges of companionship.” Bill pulled out the shirt with his face plastered on it, shades on, with money spilling in the background. Perfect attire to get arrested in. “Besides, I think he’s been smiling at me more lately. Can’t tell, but I  _ will _ say the Cipher Charm always works. Remember that.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"I'd rather not." He said, grinning again somehow, though his eyes still held a certain weight to them despite the jesting tone. "And really? You sure. I mean, I guess he does seem to be more friendly during the D, D & m D sessions." Which actually, he'd mostly continued with Bill along for the ride too. He guessed he really couldn't exactly call Ford just  _ his  _ D, D and more D partner anymore. As he spotted the shirt his brow furrowed into a line, just staring at the other. "Really." He stated, tone clear, flat and dull.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Oh? Fuck those DeeDee sessions, kid. Hit me up when you experience the pure ecstasy of making him smile at your jokes.” Bill made a few shooing motions, squinting his eyes. “Now turn around so I can get dressed. Don’t be a pervert. I have the same thing as you! At least..” he rubbed his chin. “I think so.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Hahah, hilarious." He quipped, throwing his arms in the air in some manner of defense and turning his back as ordered. Before he pinched his nose, shaking his head in some manner of exasperation. "Man, I  _ still _ can't believe you have it this bad for a demon. A demon. A real one. One that could quite possibly kill you." He also couldn't even keep calling it impossible or hopeless, as much as every nerve in him still screamed to. Not after the visions they'd both experienced, of which still reeled through him to this day. Not after actually witnessing Bill  _ making out _ with Ford, or that certain entirely authentic concern the half demon had had...during...well...other moments in those visions. Ones that still plagued his dreams vividly. "You're exactly like Mabel when she has a crush." He lamented.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill took his sweet time getting dressed, this time with less impressive choice of clothing. It was god knew what in the morning. No point in overdoing something that won’t be seen much, hence the sweatpants and lucky shirt he’s got going on. Once he’s finished, he took a seat on his bed, yawning. “Can you blame me? A man or woman who could rip you into two always make the best partners.” Not necessarily. Every single relationship he had, romantic or otherwise, had eventually drilled itself into the mud. A recipe for disaster. “I was gonna ask him on a date soon. Plans changed, however.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"You mean to tell me you  _ haven't _ asked him on a date before now?" Again, the more sarcastic tone came into play, by this point simply waiting with his back to the other as he spoke, though the point of doubt was clear enough in his voice without an added, typically blatant look. "And no. No, they do not. That is literally the definition of the worst partner. Like, that's it, you don't need anything else. That's pretty much the worst."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“We had dinner together.” That could possibly qualify as a date, though he preferred confirming it with Ford before anything. The  _ real _ date itself might... take a bit to come around. He was uncomfortable being around the demon currently. God himself could have witnessed his mental breakdown and Bill would still have the same distant reaction. “Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “What’s your definition of a great partner?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper squinted off in front of him, brought back to the night some time back which Bill had been struggling to consider what to cook. "And he...ate the food?" He asked dubiously, trying to even picture Stanford the demon of "infinite knowledge and wisdom" in a domestic setting. God, not that he  _ needed _ to. He'd seen it before and grimaced again at the thought, trying hard to again bury the images. "And well...you know. Someone...authentic. Who can take care of themselves. Isn't afraid to change. Independent but also able to support you when you really need it. Like, a really, really good friend, who you can just  _ be yourself _ around without panicking about every little thing but...you know, also...more than that." He stated airily and definitively, looking suddenly somewhat thoughtful as he gave a slight gesture of his hand.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yes, he ate. It was very handsome of him.” The typically lovesick tone was with the words, though a little less intense than usual. He was dialing it back for his own health. Bill wasn’t blind. Ford wasn’t someone to confide in when it came to emotional nonsense. Most humans weren’t either, therefore making it a waste of time to even attempt at fixing the issue at hand. It would just take.. time. Some time, is all. “Right, like Ford.” Nothing like Ford. “All jokes aside, you continue to surprise me with these unrealistic views of partnership. You won’t find anyone with all those qualities. Hate to be that person to tell you! Find someone you can tolerate, kid. Best course of action. Love might last for five years before you start getting annoyed. Hell, earlier!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"No, what?  _ No. _ Not like Ford." He shook his head, pinching at his nose again. He also wasn't going to admit for a second that he was already...kind of thinking about someone as he'd listed off those qualities. "Uh, right...sure." He said noncommittally to the "sage advice" Bill dispensed, coughing slightly into his hand somewhat uneasily, trying to shake himself out of those thoughts. He honestly wasn't sure how comfortable he was at them being there in the first place. "Can I uh, turn around yet? Seriously, how long does it take you to get dressed?" He demanded with a raised brow, going so far as to glance over his shoulder even at risk of more unseemly images there.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’ve been done, but seeing you stand there is pretty funny. Scared of witnessing the anatomy of an old man? I can assure you, what I have is better than the sad excuses of youth in this town.” Making dick jokes wasn’t the best timing with the being threatened to have charges pressed and all. At least he assumed charges would be pressed along with the infamous restraining order that always happened to find itself back in his grasp. “Not that you would know anything about that. Man, after I spend seven months in jail and another seven for breaking out, we have to throw a rager. College style.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Aw what, come on, dude." And he turned around fully, before snorting slightly at the comment. "There were a lot of words put together in that sentence that I didn't need to think about." Just the same he felt comfortable enough to look around for somewhere to sit himself, though eventually settling to just lean back against a nearby wall. A slight frown startled on his face for a moment as Bill continued before his gaze seemed to harden slightly and he forced a slight laugh. "Come on. You're not going to jail. Once me and Mabel back you up they won't have any ground to stand on." He made his voice as confident as he could, forcing himself too to believe in the words.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Uh huh. We can only hope and pray to whatever gods are meant for this.” Bill clearly would not be praying, and he clearly would not be having hope for the situation. “Wanna put money on the table over it? A quick, inexpensive bet of twenty dollars and fifteen cents.” Pessimism wasn’t usually his forte. Things have changed, just slightly in the amount of time he was in that forest. All for the worst.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"What, holding out on me now?" He joked, but felt a stir of defiance there rise in him, of determination. Maybe too of denial, but a fierce kind he would feed into no matter what happened. "But yeah. Yeah, I'll take that bet. In fact, make it a hundred." As if Dipper had more than five or six dollars at any given time, honestly.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill quirked an eyebrow, naturally suspicious, yet willing to play into the challenge with ease. “A hundred.” He whistled, drumming his fingers against his knee in thought before extending a hand. “Deal. Let’s shake on it. No takesies backsies.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Fine. Sounds good to me." He said defiantly. Maybe it was a more childish thing, him holding onto this. The stubborn refusal that Bill was going to be carted off to jail. Even if that was so, he didn't care. He reached out his hand and shook on it. "Once I get that hundred bucks I'll be able to buy even better D, D and more D equipment for us." He warned, yet still a defiant kind of look there in his eyes.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Us? You must mean you and Ford! This guy here,” Bill jerked a thumb into his own chest, grinning. “Has  _ things _ to do. Cool things that go above and beyond little nerd board games.” More of spending nights inside with his head on a desk, trying to trudge through mental health in order to get some progress done.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"You're...dropping out of the game?" He asked suddenly and surveyed the other dubiously, maybe even an almost look of concern flashing there. In what world was it that Bill would skip out on an opportunity to be around Ford and...you know, possibly scar Dipper himself with the obvious flirting. Not that it wasn't the sort of sanity he would've wanted to see ages ago, but at the same time it really made him nervous.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m busy, kid. With..” Bill’s smile faltered slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture similar to how Ford reacted back when they spoke about his mother. It’s a tiny thing he picked up, not really noticing. “ _ Things. _ Important things that I wont be able to break away from. Also, you know. I’m taking a small break from demons. Just a little.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Now  _ that _ was concerning. "You're  _ what. _ " He deadpanned, a suspicion that seemed  _ all too familiar _ to Bill's earlier one coming over his tone, his gaze narrowing somewhat in it as he studied the other. Clearly something was wrong.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“What? What I say?” Bill returned the same look, mostly to mock Dipper in the exaggeration of it all. At least, he believed it to be blown out of proportion. “It’s not like I’m gonna ditch out on him! Sometimes people need their space, and one of those people happen to be me in the moment.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"....Why?" Bill was the least "space giving" person he had probably ever met. Including his sister. And  _ especially _ when it ever came to topics about Ford. Seriously, this whole thing screamed suspicious no matter what way you looked at it.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You sure are a nosy thing. Guess what?” Bill made a motion of zipping his lips, grin still present. “None of your business, Pine Tree. A secret among secrets, to never be revealed. If I told you, I would have to  _ kill _ you. That’s how serious this is!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He shoved the other lightly at the shoulder, "Man you're full of it. Come on, I've never heard you be anything but basically obsessed with demons. Well.  _ One _ demon. I mean you constantly refer to him as your husband...and now you're avoiding him? What happened?" He still continued to eye the other somewhat carefully, voice cautious near the end.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Look, we had a moment.”  _ Bill _ had a moment, one he wanted to burn from both his and the demon’s memory. It was strange, too, being unable to recall bits and pieces from not even an hour ago. Perhaps that’s due to the stress of the situation. “And because of that, just need a little break. I still love him, obviously. Always will!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

A tension gripped Dipper then, something in a hard concern taking him at the words. "What did he do." He asked seriously, something of an alarm hitting him, studying the other's gaze carefully.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill fixed Dipper a look. One that invoked a few emotions, but mostly bafflement at the sudden change of tone. He held his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Nothing! Don’t murder him, as I’m sure you’re capable of doing with an absolute guarantee rate. Just had a moment! Nothing more, nothing less.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Bill,  _ what did he do. _ " His voice was a little more urgent, a little more hard, taking a step forward and searching Bill's expression even more carefully and strictly, pressing hard as if honestly he was just about ready to track Ford down and fight the demon. He felt his heart clench at even the idea of Bill ending up hurt or in such a position that led it to be serious enough for Bill to start avoiding the other.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Slip his way into my heart.” There was no point in having the discussion, at least to Bill. It would be uncomfortable. Intruding. Not only that, Ford  _ actually _ did nothing wrong, if only helped him, though Bill couldn’t find it in himself to meet the demon again. Not now. “Really, calm down. It’s not serious. I promise.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper gave the other a skeptical look, still studying him hard. "He didn't hurt you." He asked bluntly, still a certain strength to his tone.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“No. He didn’t. Though if he  _ did, _ I probably wouldn’t look the way I do right now. No worries, kid. Your dads aren’t fighting.” As silly as it sounds from that perspective. Being beaten by Ford was preferable over a mental breakdown. He could heal from that in a few days. This would... take a little longer then he would like.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper still eyed the other dubiously, that same hardness there to his expression, but the strength of it waned somewhat. "...Right. Well." He didn't put mention on the "dad" comment, instead still looking a bit guarded. "I guess that's...I mean if he really didn't do anything like that..." He faltered. "But everything is okay? I mean. You aren't in danger...?"

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m always in danger. I’m trying to fuck a demon, if you haven’t noticed! But,” Bill laughed softly, a tad off base from the usual sound of it. “I’m alright aside from the unfulfilled sex drive. Ford and me have a balanced relationship right now. I don’t think he would hurt me over anything. I could be wrong though!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He still looked at the other uncertainly, but seemed to give in slightly. "Well...right. Just...man, for god's sakes be careful, you know?" Dipper even now couldn't shake those future visions away. Still couldn't keep them from pressing in on him, still there at the edges of his head. Not any of them. They had been pretty much what had spurred him off on this quest to figure out how to sever the other's bond, or at least modify it in a way that could actually protect the other in some way. After all, if he couldn't figure it out, if he who obsessively researched and took in all the information on the weirdness, on Gravity Falls, on the supernatural couldn't help Bill...who even could? "So, then...why are you avoiding him? What, did it turn out that he had like...crazy demon body odor during that hug or something?" It was sort of a joke, but he did sound both curious and slightly nervous.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Hm.” Bill’s face dropped somewhat. Not entirely, but thoughts began to swarm during that small moment of silence. “Oh, it’s..” he flopped back on the bed, hand in his damp and messy hair. “I embarrassed myself, just to keep it vague. He said it doesn’t matter, that he’s seen worse, but y’know how these emotions work. Once they get rolling they can’t stop.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Oh." He could have kicked himself. Clearly it would've been something as simple as this in the end, rather than any sort of horrific injury or terrifying demon thing. "Well... I'm sure it's fine. I mean, if he says it doesn't matter...probably doesn't, right? Heck, maybe for demons it works differently." He offered, and actually opted to drop on the impossibly large bed somewhere beside Bill.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Woe is me, drowning in my sorrows within my luxurious mansion. My demon husband will never look at me the same.” Possibly not if he managed to lash out, which, for the time being, could happen under these circumstances. There’s a general unstable feeling, settled momentarily due to the hot bath and comforting atmosphere of his home. Bill stared up at the ceiling. “There’s too much going on today. I think I’m ready for anarchy.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper watched as Bill collapsed back on the bed, and for a moment, began to feel the full impact of the day. Or the night, he guessed. A heavy tiredness fell over him and he too reached his eyes up to the ceiling from where he sat, each of the events coming to weigh into him, along with Bill's possible arrest and what lay ahead of them from there. "You know what...?" He asked wearily. "I think I am too. Honestly."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill assumed their definitions ranged on two separate planes, polar opposite. One excessively violent, and the other... well, whatever Dipper considered to be anarchy, but he knew both couldn’t equally match. If it would save him the trip into mindscape, he would sleep. He needed rest. Desperately. Soon, as well. Breakdowns apparently stripped someone of all their energy, making their arms and legs feel boneless. A horrible, useless type of feel.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper himself was tired, but the kind of tired that buzzed lengthily through you, ripping apart everything in your mind and forcing you awake, keeping you hopped up on an energy that couldn't be put into words but shocked its way through like a live wire. Sooner or later he collapsed too at the bed, staring with an equally exhausted, blank expression at the ceiling.

"...You want to...play a game or something?" He asked then, still staring up in front of him. Did Bill even own video games? But it was all he could think of to distract him from the impact of everything. The weight of everything. From the dead deers to the life or death shock, split decision of saving Bill's life. From possibly living after that change, staring at the bleeding pieces, the fragments left of the other's head, the nightmare of it all being his fault. 

He tried to press, veer the thoughts off course, taking himself back to the moment by force instead.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“...A game? What is this, a high school slumber party?” Something he didn’t get to experience, though the once desperate yearning in mimicking PG-13 films with a group of friends and their mystery dog had faded long ago. “I don’t... have much things considered as games,” he answered anyway. “I have.. chess. A piano I haven’t played in years. Cards. That’s it, sorry to break it to you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He frowned. "Yikes. You don't have video games?" He asked in a tone that implied some deal of sympathy and also disbelief. Not that he should probably be surprised, but still. As he listened to the other list off what he  _ did _ have, he just gave him a certain look. "Man. Wow. What did you even used to do here before exploring Gravity Falls."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Once I was told video games contain satanic messages subtly placed throughout it, meant to plague the minds of children and have them convert to satanism.” That’s a whole suitcase for unpack, even for him. Bill laughed right after, finding it ridiculous looking back. “Here? I studied. Outside of Gravity Falls? I partied until I almost lost my liver! Great times.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Uh." He squinted at the other. "Seeing as you're literally trying to  _ date _ the devil, I don't think that worked very well as a preventative." He deadpanned before furrowing his brows, but grinned all the same. "Man. You know, I'm not at all surprised about that even a little." He admitted. "But hey, guess if you'd never come here and gone researching you and I would've never met."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“That’s because I was reciting old horse wash. Nonsense. Gibberish. Not an actual reflection on my great lifestyle.” Bill rolled over, mostly to press his weight on top of Dipper unapologetically so. He made sure his elbow was in the teen’s face, a small laugh leaving his mouth. “Want me to invest in a pool table? We can play beer pong, the worst game in existence.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Well, yeah, obviously it was horse wa--" He yelped in the middle of his rather sarcastic response, flailing there some under the sudden elbow in his face with a muffled, " _ Dude. _ " As he attempted to throw the older man off of himself. After failing he glared, at least shoving the elbow from his eye if nothing else "What-- _ No _ . No beer pong." He struggled to shove at the other again, "Ugh, get off, Bill. How are you even this heavy?"

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill rocked in his spot, trying to remain grounded on Dipper. “I’m filled with gold,” he elaborated, kind enough to keep his elbow down. “Do you think Ford is this heavy? Or does he got some weird demon weight that varies depending on his emotions?” This was “exhaust” talking, Bill blabbering away freely. “Maybe  _ that’s _ what would kill me during our.. ahem..  _ private _ moments.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper continued to push and struggle uselessly, reminded a bit too much of their wrestling sessions in which Bill would ultimately always manage to get him in a headlock until he inevitably was forced to cry uncle. "Dude, you're like not even that big, what the  _ heck _ ." He complained roughly, glaring up at the other. Honestly he himself was still too drained too even in the mess of energy running through him and eventually just groaned loudly and just lay there as if finally accepting his lot in life, still giving Bill a dull, full glaring and disgruntled look all the while. "That...literally makes zero sense. You are absolutely making zero sense now."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Are you judging my physique? I know I’m not the buffest man out there, kid, but I’ll have you know this body was attractive enough to sleep with half of Arizona.” Not something he should necessarily be proud of, if only a little grateful for the experience and luck avoiding diseases. “Yeah?  _ You _ make no sense. None of you make any sense to me! Some of you don’t take your shoes off before coming in the house, some of you eat food with your hands that’s not meant for your hands!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"I'm judging you for  _ laying on top of me _ ." He muttered, "Also gross." And he furrowed his brows again. "Pretty sure those are normal things." The teen grunted, still just apparently laying there in a disheveled heap. "Man, you can't be this bored." He tried uselessly to give a kind of half assed push at the other without real force behind it.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I am! I miss the warm strange embrace of my lover already, even if we’ve only embraced once.” Eventually, he did roll off, huffing, landing on his face as the rest of the words were muffled. There always was... work, but the frustration that came with building a portal wouldn’t be ideal in the moment. “What do you do at these hours, huh? Cry?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"I research." He said dully, still just laying there as Bill rolled off as if in fact this whole thing was 100% normal. He had to admit, as much as he hated to, that the bed was absurdly comfortable. Far more than it had any right being right then. "You know, crack codes, write up on old adventures and observations. Read books." He shot the other a narrowed look. "And  _ is  _ his embrace warm? I feel like it would be..." He frowned at the ceiling. "I don't know. Terrifying."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“It is.” Never enough to quite make him shake in his boots, but Bill did a fine job at concealing those fears bubbling underneath smiles and suggestive jokes. The question begged on when he would be ready again to continue their partnership in researching and practice. Even now, as much as his body was begging him to sleep, he kept it awake off stubbornness. “Hm. You think Ford would be upset if I ignored him? Not sure if he would care or not. Sometimes his brain confuses me, if he has one of those.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Does he have a brain?" Dipper suddenly marveled, squinting into the ceiling as he went over the idea in his still buzzing, overactive and exhausted head. "Or is it just...like shadows and tentacles and stuff." He shook his head. "I guess him being half human really raises the question. But uh...man I have no idea. I'm sure it's fine, right? He's basically this ageless demon, so...I don't know, probably fine."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Ask him if you can see his brain.” It sounded more like another bet then anything else. “He’s got all those eyes in the way of his uh.. hair? Does he have hair? For as much as I stare at his face that detail got flung to the back.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Yeah. Pretty sure it also is just nightmares." Dipper commented dully, rubbing at an eye with one of his hands wearily. "Unless there's like...hair behind the nightmares?" He guessed with a slight frown.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“That doesn’t make sense.  _ You _ don’t make sense. These talks should’ve been had when we got high, kid. Missed opportunity. I’d throw you some alcohol if I wasn’t already in trouble with authorities.” Which he was somewhat paranoid over. He’s spent decent enough times locked behind bars, though nothing that exceeding three months. The time for breaking and entering is... not ideal, as well as the fine.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"What, sure it does. You know, like that whole...shadowy dark...head he has." For once in his life, Dipper almost wished for alcohol in that moment. Nearly. "God, let's not ever do that." He threw his arm over his face with a wince at the idea. "I'll start seeing and thinking things that will  _ never _ leave my head." He muttered, voice muffled now.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I call that romantic essence,” Bill added unhelpfully, confident, like it in itself was factual. “Speaking of which, I haven’t heard a knock on my door yet. Wanna watch movies? All I have are violent horrors that can’t be distinguished from actual snuff films. They could be illegal!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Romantic essence." He scrunched his nose beneath his arm. "What does that even mean." He asked dully, but then thought better of it, "You know what, nevermind. I'm not sure I want to know." He admitted, instead just lying there, mind still lit up and running far too strong on empty. And he perked up at the next words. "Yes." Dipper said at once then with some relief, peering over his arm with determination. "Yes I want to watch movies." It was an idea he was latching onto like a lifesaver. There was nothing else to be said except continued dumb conversations that  _ seemed _ like they were high but were in fact sober and sleep deprived with their nerves 100% done with.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“It means romantic essence. The reason you don’t understand is because it’s far beyond your level of comprehension skills, which is halted at the naivety of a virgin. New lesson.” That didn’t make sense. Bill  _ knew _ it didn’t make sense, which is why he never bothered further elaborating on the meaning. He lazily slipped off the bed, walking over to the dresser where his remote laid. The television in his room surprisingly wasn’t some huge flat screen. It’s not like Bill watched much media in the first place. “Alright, so which one you wanna give a go at? Cannibals on Ice, Blood Boiler: the Bloodening, Bloody Valentine, Doja, Genocidal Gospel...” the list went on and on, really. Interesting title names.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper just squinted over at the other at the "explanation" of which clearly did not make sense but he...also wasn't in a state to argue it. As he listened to the list of movies, he was drawn back to Gravity's Falls TV and all the horrible, cheesy titles that would play through as he and Wendy would occasionally watch them. "Uhhh, man, I don't know. Genocidal Gospel, I guess?" He shrugged, but grinned, now leaning up against his hands for support, at least glad to be doing something, even if it was probably terrible horror movies. "I never knew you were a horror movie buff." He commented lightly, looking around for some pillows in the sea of the bed to begin utilizing.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Genocidal Gospel! Great choice, kid. A classic.” There’s an array of strange DVDs packed into one part of his dresser, all cooped together, untouched for the passing few months as he distracted himself with other work. “I’m not,” he says, all while pulling out the excessively bloodied cover that’s pictured with crying nuns. “Here’s a little more insight into my childhood: this here? First horror, best horror. To keep it short and sweet, it’s about a woman who kills everyone on her island! The ones who try to force her into conforming to their societal rules! A coming of age story that should be displayed in elementary schools.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He snorted. "Not sure if that's...uh appropriate for elementary school." And gave the other an uncertain look, laughing slightly. "Man, clearly you are a fan of horror if that's like, the only movie selection you own." He managed to scoot back then, scooping up a few pillows to toss against the headboard for support. Honestly ready to lose himself in anything, even if it was weird serial killer nuns, probably.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“It’s  _ very _ appropriate. It gives character and individualism.” Bill fumbles with the disk for a second before slipping it inside the player, the screen coming to life with the staticky quality of a 1940s film. He plopped down right beside Dipper, shifting the weight of the mattress with the sudden movement. Already a few disclaimers on pirating appeared, the usual introduction. Bill was grinning ear to ear. “Guess I am. Never took myself for one to care about movies, but this one has stolen my heart.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Honestly, I'm just glad it's not a modern film. I hate to say it, but modern horror is..." He hissed out a breath in some consideration. "Well. Terrible. Pretty much just awful." The teen made some room, throwing a pillow at his side into Bill's face for the other to use as extra backing.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I wouldn’t know.” The pillow smack had all but earned an irritated groan in response, Bill situating himself to get comfortable, tempted to throw his legs over Dipper for the hell of it. The movie itself had already started out strong, some neck hanging, saw-cutting massacres. Everything suddenly made sense on why people assumed he kept others in his nonexistent basement.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper was definitely of the preference not to have himself used as a footstool, though did make himself comfortable regardless. "I just realized." Dipper stated dully as the opening scene rolled in and the distant sound of mayhem and semi-gruesome massacres began. "We should probably get like...popcorn or something, right?" He hesitated. "Uh...if that's...even something you eat." But the weariness, that dull kind of numb listlessness seemed to press in too much for him to actually get up to go rummaging around Bill's kitchen.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Now I do. Butter is delicious.” And his one way ticket to health issues that he never considered dealing with before, not to forget the general greasy feelings that lingered from eating these types of foods. Bill snapped his fingers. “Fuck! I could’ve had a movie night with Ford! I bet he’s never seen any of this junk!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Oh, good, is it...in the kitchen?" He asked, glancing over, considering battling his desire to not move for the next few days to go in search of it. And he shook his head at that, "Man, I would honestly be shocked if he's ever seen a movie." He stated dully before hesitating suddenly. "I mean. I don't know, maybe when he was a kid?" He considered the screen, looking a bit unsure. "That...still seems weird to me. Did he just...live here on earth or what? Went to school or..." He continued studying the screen a bit uncertainly, the ideas of it striking him as...entirely wrong.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Yeah, pantry.” Bill certainly wasn’t moving, glued to the mattress as guts and blood splatter played through with horrible effects, some gospel music played in the background. He passed Dipper a small look. “Doubt he remembers, but he  _ did _ live on earth for a bit. Isn’t that neat? I’m gonna meet his birth mother after I stalk her down.” Bill beamed, vibrant despite the general want to pass out. “Uh, don’t know if he went to school. I hope he didn’t! School is horrible and discourages individualism.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper perked up, snacks and popcorn forgotten. "What? Seriously?" And he sat up even straighter at Bill saying he was going to go _meet her._ " _What._ **Dude.** You have to take me with." He said suddenly, some stirring, vague undertone of his usual adventure yearning space clear in his tone. "Man, that's...seriously, I can't believe it. How is she even still alive?" He asked, baffled. "Though I guess...in the vision he _did_ say time worked differently. Right?" He shook his head, running a hand through his locks of brown hair distractedly, revealing briefly his birthmark there underneath but not realizing _or_ caring for the moment.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Nope. No. Not doing that.” Bill shook his head, arms crossing, his foot places down in the metaphorical sense. Though from the way he cracks one eye open, looking at Dipper, it was clear he was tempted into bringing him along. “ _ This _ is very important to my significant other!” Well, he assumed so. It took some prying, but Bill was sure some... familial love was stored deep inside that dark chest. “You can hitch along with finding her, but you can’t be around when Ford meets her.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Ford's going to  _ meet her?" _ He asked, hand dropping and tone clear in a kind of shocked disbelief, looking at the other, movie also now forgotten. "Seriously? Man...I have...geez, no idea what that would look like." He was pouring over the visions the two had seen, trying to remember the exact words that were given there. Hadn't Ford not had any interest in meeting her? It was honestly difficult for him to sift through, even the day of it so long before had been hard to work through it all. "I...wow, honestly, I'd have  _ so many questions. _ " He admitted and shook his head, as if overcome by all of them at once. "I mean, how did that...you know, whole thing even happen? Did she just...summon a demon or...get a curse or...? And...what was it even like raising  _ demons? _ " He laughed a bit at the absurdity of the idea, glancing at Bill as if in support for the enthusiasm.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Gotta find the bitch first.” Bill said that in the most endearing way possible, a more casual talk. A smile broke out on his face, however, relating with Dipper’s excitement on a more intrusive and obsessive direction. Excitement all the same, but perhaps not appropriate with the background of cinematic gore sounding throughout the bedroom. “ _ I know. _ I bet her womb is destroyed, Pine Tree. She probably has secrets! Picture books! Possibly hints on how to successfully woo a demon! The possibilities are endless right now!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He pulled a face. "Oh ugh dude, what, no..." And shook his head at the thoughts and images, pulling up his hands. "Alright. Look, at least I'll agree that this is  _ fascinating. _ " He groaned then at the thought of not getting a chance to ask the questions that came piling through him, falling back. "Man, what I wouldn't give to just ask her even just  _ some _ questions. I don't guess we could like...meet her before or after Ford does...?" He ran a hand again through his hair, grinning distantly, despite the clear screams and macabre running the screen in front of them. "Seriously, just how many people in the world even have an experience like this? I still can't believe you convinced Ford to meet her to begin with."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill didn’t believe it either. Occasionally it was difficult remembering not everyone, even demons, held deeply embedded traumas and resentment towards their own creators. Though Ford’s gestures and expression had awakened something inside of him, one of hope, he believed. Not for himself, but for the demon to incorporate his human lifestyle into the current one now; a unique experience that could possibly never be replicated again. He felt... good. Even with what happened today. “We can. We’ll just explain, offer some gifts, see how she reacts, and sit down with a little chat before bringing Ford into the equation.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He looked at the other, grin coming stronger, "Okay...but seriously, that would be awesome." He said as a statement of fact and then hastily shrugged, "I mean. Maybe even better? To like...I don't know, ease her into the situation? Geez, I'm guessing she hasn't even seen Ford since he was a kid, probably? Maybe?" He leaned back again, still trying to grasp at what little he knew about the subject and despite his exhaustion, despite the running, turbulent energy, it was definitely a thought.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“It would!” Bill clapped his hands together, some heat rising to his face in content. “I already have a few scenarios planned out! We’ll have tea, share a slice of pie or two, and crack jokes. Y’know, I’ll even use  _ normal _ jokes, not that she’s probably anything even close to normal. I mean,” Bill snorted. “She banged a demon and had demon sons. She’s seen it all.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"You know I kind of hate to agree with you, but she probably has." He considered, still grinning lightly. "God, what is it even going to be like her seeing her son again? I mean...one of them." He hesitated then as a thought struck him. Because...she'd definitely had more than one son. Suddenly he felt a slight twitch of dread run through him, some breadth of panic, but pummeled it down, too caught up to fester on the thought. "I will absolutely have to write some questions down. I can't believe we can like, contact her? Do you have her name and everything?"

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_ That _ was something he should’ve placed more thought into. Perhaps Ford’s hesitance came from a place of her despising the more.. rocky supernatural lifestyle? Though most of Bill refused to believe the reunion would be anything but heartfelt. “Caryn Romanoff Pines,” he answered, getting a taste for the name. It rolled off the tongue nicely. “Sounds like a good woman, right? Even matches your last name. Lucky you.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper stared at Bill for a moment, some shock there meeting his expression, dipping into stunned confusion, brows furrowed. He opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again before finally, as some vague crescendo of violence came sharply across the screen, all to be ignored somewhere in the background, the teen broke into an awkward grin. "Hahah...very funny, dude. Hilarious man. Come on, but seriously...what's her real name?"

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill reached over, poking Dipper’s nose. “That is her real name. Bathe in it. Bathe in this coincidence, kid. Bathe and soak and absorb the fact that you share the last name with the most powerful and handsome being.” Not that he himself would take it, even in marriage. Bill Cipher was a unique milestone and evidence of his “growth.” A step into his own character. Bill regarded Dipper with a questionable look. “What? Not liking it?”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He kinda just looked at the other, some mingled conflict reading on his face. "Haha...no, it's just...man, uh, weird coincidence is all." He shrugged again, but it was a bit of a baffled, uneasy thing. "That's uh...well, that's my grandma's name actually. The whole...Jewish thing, you know. She usually moves around a lot, but we stayed with her for just a little before moving in with uncle Fiddleford - he's like, our godfather. Not...actually our real uncle or anything." He rubbed at his neck, still looking a bit put off. "Just...I guess...you know. Common name? Maybe..."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill’s blood went cold momentarily, more expressed from his lack of words, blinking, and the general atmosphere wavering off his body, eyes glued entirely on Dipper as if he quit functioning. That wasn’t a coincidence. Not the full name, anyway. Last names? Possibly, but first, middle,  _ and _ last meant there’s dots to be easily connected. “...Right,” Bill decided, clearing his throat, a little more awkwardly than originally intended. “Woo. That’s crazy. Coincidences and all.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper's grin too seemed strained, all too awkward. "Ha...yeah, that...really weird, right? I mean. What are the odds." They were slim. Even as Dipper spoke, he knew that. They were pretty damn slim. "Too funny. Guess uh, guess it must just be...common enough." He nervously ran a hand at the back of his neck, suddenly struck with the hope that maybe Ford had lied to Bill. Played the name deliberately into his heritage. But it didn't add up, none of it did. And as he ran through these thoughts, and the blatant  _ what ifs _ of them, he tried calmly to deny it all. No way their grandma was...hell, no way. That was absurd to the point of almost being hilarious and ridiculous. What  _ were _ the odds of that? And him being here, with Bill, in Gravity Falls? No. It  _ had _ to be a coincidence. The idea in itself was...well,  _ insane _ . Absolutely, dumbly impossible on many levels.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“...How about that popcorn?” It was the best option he could offer in changing the subject that was desperately digging itself deeper. Bill assumed Ford was lying too for the smallest second, but, there’s some guilt in believing he would, given the open reactions Bill was given around then. Human. Real. It would be evil to consider it a lie by this point, at least in his mind. Bill slowly slid off the bed, sucking on his tongue. “Tomorrow I’ll.. go buy a phone book for this state, if that’s still a thing. Then I’ll get to digging around.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Can't you just go online in the yellow pages to do that stuff now?" He asked, desperate also to grab onto the topic change that seemed to sink in and linger all around them. He still wasn't ready to think about the implications, still clutching onto the coincidence theory like it was some kind of life saver to his sanity in the impossible situation. The only other option was that Ford really had just lied, had some kind of alterior motive, or...well. He felt more discomfort stir there. That option wasn't one he was considering. Instead he too hoisted himself off the bed, his preference far being that of watching popcorn pop than be left alone here now. "I mean, hell with facebook and social media it's pretty easy to track people via the web...or sometimes at least."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Huh. Guess so, kid. Good thinking. I’m stuck in those old fashioned ways.” At the next thing said, Bill did give Dipper a strange look, quirking an eyebrow. “Facebook? Uh. Not up my alley! Never used social media like that before, barely use it now. Such an artificial thing!” Truthfully, he could use.. perhaps a  _ little _ experience in that field, as it would make things far easier. Bill stretched his arms, waiting for Dipper at the doorway. “We could give it a quick google search tonight. Just a quick one.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Man, what, you're not even  _ that old. _ " There was no way that was the reason. Most likely it just had to do with...well, him being Bill probably. Grabbing his cap on automatic where he'd left it earlier as he headed to the door he followed then after Bill. A part of him still felt nervous about the cops showing up and some wariness came at that. If they hadn't stopped in while he and Bill were in the forest, it would mean it'd have to be sooner or later. Not that they could just...bust in and enter...right? 

Trying to shake the thought off for now, he fell into step beside the other. "Well, I mean, it's a start if nothing else. If she's...well, older, it's possible she won't have any social media or anything either but...heck, it's worth a shot. And I can always help. Though I mean to be honest I'm not that great at social media either, that's really more Mabel's thing. Mabel  _ did _ make me and uncle Fiddleford our own accounts, but then I'm pretty sure she just posts pictures from her "memory scrapbook" on them mostly." He rubbed at his neck, wincing at the last entry he remembered. Something about that awful disco party she'd dragged him too some time ago.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m as old as time.” Bill descended down the stairs, slow, taking his sweet time with each individual step as everything gradually prepared himself for the unsuspected reality. Dipper being related to Ford. Somehow. Seemed anything was possible in hillbilly towns, demons, fairies, and all. “Social media rots your brain,” he offered, maneuvering his way into the kitchen smoothly. “If she does have one, let’s dox her and capture that sweet, sweet IP address.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He frowned for a second at the suggestion. "Actually...that's really not a bad idea." He eyed the other for a moment with a slight scrutiny, "Man, I thought you just said you were terrible with these kinds of things..." Dipper was moving pretty easily after the other, still pretty much just desperate to fill the earlier awkwardness with conversation and _still_ just as determined to latch onto the whole thing as being purely coincidental. "And...you know, for once I kind of have to agree with you. Social media is...well, definitely not always my thing." In fact, he hardly used computers for much other than research and the occasional video game, honestly. Dipper had filled his life mostly with actual real life journals, text books, novels and generally non electronic methods of exploration and research. Maybe the closest thing he had to a facebook, actually made by him, was livejournal.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I am! I have no idea how to do that, kid. Was assuming you did. Be useful and let’s violate the privacy rights of an old woman.” Something he was practically built for. He laughed awkwardly, moving over to the cupboard in order to retrieve a bag of popcorn: extra  _ extra _ butter written over the front, bits of stylized popcorn apparently exploding with flavor. Unhealthy, basically. He didn’t seem to mind as he ripped the plastic wrapping off, tossing the pack itself into the microwave and hitting the preferable setting. “All I know is, is that this might be a good break from everything else I’ve been up to. Some wholesomeness.” That’s what he assumed.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Right...of course you don't." Dipper stated dully, before he considered, hissing out a breath. "Well...I mean...sure, how hard can it be?" All he'd have to do is do a bit of research, read a few websites and figure out how to do that, right? Right. That sounded...simple enough. Piece of cake. He snorted slightly at the "wholesome" comment, but grinned a bit awkwardly just the same. "Actually, I could probably use a bit of that in my life too right about now." He hesitated, "Though, uh...you're not worried that, you know...maybe she won't... _ want _ to see Ford again?" Not that he actually wanted to burst that bubble, but...anything could happen here, honestly.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Bill kneeled down, face right in front of the microwave as the packet rotated, starting to expand as time went on. His reflection looked right back at him, and for a moment, seeing himself had made him freeze. “...She’ll want to see him.” It’s said factually, like no other alternative was possible in this reality, and that any insinuation of it being different was offensive. “All moms wanna get a great look of their spawns after a while. Motherly intuition, I think they call it. Instinctive nonsense.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper nodded vaguely, frowning at the room at large. He still felt too wound and strung out to argue that and...considering all of it, it was probably best to just hold onto that more positive viewpoint. What mom  _ wouldn't _ want to see their fully developed demon baby, right? He winced. "Uh, right. Sure...instinctive. Makes sense." The word still tested uncertainly against his tongue, voice somewhat uneasy in the agreement, glancing off and rubbing again at his neck while the popcorn continued to pop. "Still. It'll be something at least, you know? I mean, how many people can say they've actually been in those shoes?" He pressed then, grinning somewhat weakly, working back through the millions of questions that were already pulling through his head about the situation, if not to at least distract himself. Even from earlier’s implications. "I'm going to have to write basically a book of questions."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m planning on conducting an interview after the hellos are out the way.” Hopefully it wouldn’t be disrespectful. Bill was planning on easing himself into it all, trying to make a great impression on his soon to be mother-in-law. Only made sense to offer the more... normal sides of himself. Well, perhaps not normal, but more conducted and stable. “Planning on putting my questions on a tier list. Top being her experiences,” the bag started to pop, expanding wider. “Bottom portion being me getting her blessing. Gotta be tactical.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He snorted. "Her blessing, huh? What, for the wedding?" He asked, clearly not impressed, a slight of a grin there on his lips. Not that he couldn't say it was bad idea. Probably best to prioritize things.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“That and generally entering a relationship with him.” Once the microwave beeped, Bill pressed open the door, a wave of buttery corn wafting throughout the kitchen. Smells like high cholesterol. He pulled the bag, reaching for a decent sized bowl in one of the cabinets. “It’s interesting being enamored for demon, and I can only imagine what’s happening on the other end. The reactions I get are  _ delicious. _ And I mean that in a non-sexual way for once!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Well, that was definitely something Dipper wasn't really keen on knowing more about. Just the same he let out a slight breath, "Reactions...? You sure you're not just...reading into things?" He asked, voice somewhat uneasy and dubious. The time had long past where he would insist that Bill was entirely crazy to think he'd get anywhere, well, not that he wouldn't occasionally try. But those old future visions had pretty much muffled and suffocated those certainties and thrown him for a loop with the situation entirely over the last year. There was too much about it that ate at the absolute rock certainty that this whole thing was just going to end in unreciprocated disaster which, honestly, was all  _ still _ a hard pill for him to swallow.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Reactions as in confusion,” Bill explained, smiling at the discovery of his bowl that’s lettered in “Believe” with an alien head right beside it. He began pouring the popcorn into it with a whistle. “Curiosity, amusement. Pretty sure I’m his personal entertainment at this point, he’s just being too nice to admit it. But,” he turned around, offering the bowl. “It’s great! I love it! See kid, not only is my flirting meant for courting, but it aids in my research of Ford’s behavior. He genuinely doesn’t know what the hell I’m babbling about!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The teen eyed the other sith some clear doubt, taking the offered bowl with a clear, raised brow. "...Uhuh." Although admittedly, that sounded a lot more on point than whatever else he'd figured Bill had been implying. Even the idea that the somewhat horrifying knowledge demon might even...well,  _ do _ anything about the flirting was insane in every right to him to even attempt to picture. Not that he  _ had to _ considering what the two once witnessed. What he wouldn’t give to be rid fo those images.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“You don’t sound that enthusiastic. I know how it must  _ feel, _ being unable to reach such fetes of research of entering a relationship with a demon.” It was, in retrospect, something to gloat about, as unstable as it sounds. He took Dipper’s hat off, just to ruffle his hair, feeling a tad affectionate. “I am truly living the dream! One day you’ll find your supernatural significant other. Eventually. Probably not, but hey! Dream on!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He had to chuckle slightly at that despite the images he had been trying to beat down, swatting at Bill without real force and making to grab his hat back. "H-hey," He laughed, grinning slightly. "Thank you very much but I think I prefer to date a normal  _ human _ girl in a relationship." He shot the other a soft jab in the shoulder with his free hand as he spoke. "I think I'll be leaving the impossible supernatural relationships in your crazy hands for good."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“I’m bored of humans. Can you blame me? You all talk, walk, and act the same.” It was a self-roast in itself, and he realized that somewhat a little too late as he continued speaking. “Why settle for the generic options nature is setting you up for? Broaden that dating pool, kid!”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Are you...now  _ encouraging me _ to date demons? I'm still getting a lot of mixed signals here." He shoved his hat back securely on his head with a weak, somewhat humorous grin just the same. "And man, whatever you say you realize that you'd have to put yourself somewhere in that boring walk, talk and acting the same kind of thing, you know. You aren't exactly a Lepracorn or anything." He nodded off toward the stairs, indicating they should move up there while still holding the popcorn bowl to his chest as he did.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

“Not at all. You’ve been banned from demons, with the exception of Ford. Hear me? Banned.” Bill himself should’ve been banned from demons long ago, right before he discovered Ford. It would’ve saved him the literal life ruining choices currently in this moment, along with some sparingly low mental health. “I got flavor,” he defended with a grin, shaking Dipper’s head. “Should try your foot in some mermaids. Oh oh— vampires. Did I ever tell you how much I hate vampires? A mockery of supernatural itself.”

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

He felt something of that same twisted guilt settle through him, a nerve wrecked, deeper thing that showed briefly in his gaze. Yet for his part he managed still to roll his eyes and let out a snort, deflecting the idea. "Right. Flavor. That is...a generous way of putting it." He smirked and gave a short laugh at the touch, trying to pull his hat back on, "Hey, cut it out," before he gave the other an additional shove, tone light but tired. "Come on man, we're probably missing this whole...I don't know. Nuns killing islanders life lessons thing. Let’s get going back."

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It was reluctant given he was prepared to give an hour long speech on the disrespectful functioning of a vampire, and how in general they were nature’s pathetic excuse, but Bill relented, still offering bits here and there as they made their way back up, the sounds of slaughter very much welcoming towards the man. His neighbors? Not so much, though the thought of police and noise complaints becomes background noise to the moment. 

It was brighter in comparison to the next three days, without sleep, spent making  _ some _ progress on the portal, succeeding in an appropriate design and listing the possible materials that could come into use later. Power management would still be an issue. Dimension or timeline hopping, even without prior knowledge to the subject, was fairly obvious in regards to the powerful requirements used to both get it running and to maintain that stride without hiccups. A few sticky notes of Ford’s mother sat to the side, glued onto the demon’s personal journal; the most he figured out was that she was still within the United States before trailing off to other works. That and the... very high possibility of her being related to Dipper. There was a list carefully compiled of the questions that would be asked, if necessary. In the meantime the tinkering itself had resulted in bandaid ridden hands and Bill found himself more miserable than he thought he could be. Not as miserable as being forced to eat unseasoned foods and wearing khaki shorts, but close enough. 

The clock struck midnight. 72 hours without leaving his home for other than necessities, 72 hours without speaking to Ford, without rest, his main meals being microwaved garbage that somehow shifted into cuisine once he sprinkled salt on it. Underneath his eyes were lined in deep grey, the sclera tinted in red and hands generally incapable of writing without rattling.

He fell out. Mostly without realizing it, face landing on the desk in the most uncomfortable manner that promised pain from the posture later.

##  **\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Dipper joked and made references to " _die, I would literally die dating a vampire,_ " and the need to have a relationship with someone above water as they'd made their way back upstairs, the boy eager to get settled back in. He'd passed out some time later, snoring slightly with his shirt halfway in his mouth, oblivious in sleep to the dangers or lack there of in the police being called. They had already been called, hadn't they? It hadn't been until morning that he'd departed, promising to come and visit soon, at least minutely more refreshed than the night before. 


End file.
